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iMfJ'nL 


‘-'Quit, I tell you; 


you’re a terrible 
a desperate — 


woman; 

y y 


I never see such 
Page 75 


Feminine Finance 


BY 

FRANCES CROUCH 


DRAWINGS BY 

AMY E. HOGEBOOM 



>*> 

» 

* 


New York 

B. W. DODGE & COMPANY 
1907 



jUSftARY of CONGRESS 
Two Copies Received 

nov i im 

Cnnyne*tf Entry 

Oct 3-0 K»7 

CLASS 4 XXc«, No, 

( ^08^^ 

copy a. 


Copyrighted, 1907, by 
B. W. DODGE & COMPANY 


Registered at Stationers’ Hall, London 
(All Rights Reserved) 
Published September, 1907. 
Printed in the United States of America 


Co f)er £)ear jFrtenfce: 

ANNIE MEYERS SERGEL, AND CHARLES 
HUBBARD SERGEL, THIS BOOK IS 
AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED 
BY THE AUTHOR 






LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 


PAGE 

Quit, I tell you ; you’re a terrible woman ; I never 
see such A desperate ” Frontispiece ' 

We can’t carry such a big woman ! ” wailed Louise 45 


I NEVER DID SEE THE LIKE O’ YUH MESSENGER BOYS ! De 

DEBIL’S IN YUH, EV’RY ONE O’ YUH ” 220 

I TOOK A SHINE T’ YOU TH’ FIRST TIME I EVER SEE YOU— 

DIDN’T YOU NOTICE IT?” 302 























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Feminine Finance 


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FEMININE FINANCE 


CHAPTER I 

Three taps at Miss Anstey’s door — open, but 
portiere withdrawn — elicited from her an invita- 
tion to enter. She turned from her desk toward the 
door, as the colored maid stepped into the room. 

“Dazza lady in th’ pahlah V see yuh, Miss 
Anstey,” drawled the servant. 

“Who, Martha? Haven’t you a card, or the 
name?” 

“No’m,” answered Martha; “ah ast huh, but she 
sayed jus’ t’ tell yuh it’s a frien’.” 

“How very awkward! Now please remember 
this, Martha : I’m much too busy this summer to 
see any one who is not in some way connected with 
my work, and I shall be saved a good deal of pre- 
cious time, which would otherwise be wasted, if you 
will insist that whoever calls for me shall give 
you either their card or their name. Now this may 
be some person that I could as well have sent up 
here. On the other hand it might be some one 
whom I should want to receive more formally; so 
I must take the chance, change my gown, and go 
1 


2 


FEMININE FINANCE 


down. Tell the lady— you say it is a lady? — 
that HI be down presently.” 

“Yas’m, Ah sayed it was a lady — maybe she is,” 
Miss Anstey. “Yuh cayn’t always tell by da looks,” 
said the good-natured, faithful, and otherwise un- 
impeachable, but free-spoken Martha, as she turned 
away. 

Miss Anstey failed to hear, or sense, Martha’s 
concluding remark. In a few moments she closed 
the window near which her desk stood, also her 
door, as she went out of it. This, to avoid possible 
disarrangement, by wind or otherwise, of the 
ordered disorder of her papers — on desk, table, 
couch and floor, some of them secured by weights 
of various sorts and sizes, from books to pincush- 
ions ; some thrust through with pins, to fasten them 
to the bed or rugs. She grudged the time away 
from her manuscript, to finish which at a certain 
time, she w r as staying in town, and on which her 
publisher was hurrying her from day to day. She 
devoutly hoped, as she descended the stairs to the 
drawing-room, that the call would be brief, resolv- 
ing to do all to curtail it that a strict compliance 
with the tenets of hospitality permitted. 

The drawing-room in this large old-fashioned 
house was darkened to keep out somewhat of the 
glare and heat of the midsummer sun. In the 
corner farthest from the door sat a veiled woman, 
“of a stoutness.” This stoutness was aggravated 
to the eye by a pongee coat of the automobile 


FEMININE FINANCE 3 

variety — that is to say, long, loose and all-envelop- 
ing. 

The dim light, and the obscurity of the seat 
which the stout one had chosen, combined to give 
Miss Anstey the momentary belief that her un- 
known caller had grown impatient of the delay 
occasioned by the change of toilet, and departed 
without seeing, or being seen of, her. But, step- 
ping further into the room, she saw the stout one 
rise and advance toward her with outstretched 
hand. The stranger’s identity was completely con- 
cealed behind two thick brown veils which covered 
her face and all but a small portion of her hat. 
In a loud whisper she said, as she neared the mysti- 
fied woman who stood in the middle of the room : 

“Don’t — speak my name.” 

“I couldn’t,” said Miss Anstey, smiling slightly; 
“I don’t know it You have the advantage of me 
in that you know mine. Or was it Miss Anstey 
whom you wished to see? The servant must have 
made a mistake.” 

“No, Louise, there’s no mistake,” said this re- 
markable caller, still whispering. “I want to see 
you entirely alone. Is there any one in that back 
parlor, or in the hall, that can hear us?” 

Miss Anstey was dumbfounded. Her name hap- 
pened to be Louise, but this — this — person must 
be looking for some other Louise Anstey, though 
this one knew of no other. She knew no one of such 
a figure ; no one who would act in such an extraor- 


4 


FEMININE FINANCE 


dinary manner. Just as this flashed through her 
mind the veiled woman whispered: 

“TO tell you all when you take me to your room. 
This is a boarding-house, isn’t it? I’m afraid to 
tell you here, and I whisper because I don’t want 
anyone to recognize even my voice.” 

“You must know that your conduct is not such 
as to inspire confidence. Who are you, and what 
do you want here? Tell me at once.” Miss Anstey, 
comparatively small, was not lacking in physical 
courage, but this woman’s uncommon behavior, 
coupled with the fact that she seemed disinclined 
to reveal her identity, bred in her the belief that 
she was face to face with a maniac. 

“Go out in the hall, please, and into the back 
parlor, and see if any one is lurking there that’s 
likely to hear what I say,” came in whispers from 
behind the veils. 

“This is most annoying,” replied Miss Anstey. 
“There’s no reason why you or any one should have 
anything to say to me that cannot be said here, 
openly.” She forebore to say that all the servants 
but one were below stairs and farther from her 
than she wished, and the landlady out of the house, 
and began to feel a bit afraid of this large, strong, 
mysterious whisperer. 

“There’s a very good reason why I don’t want 
to take the chance of any one’s hearing what I 
have to say, as you will believe when I tell you, 
as I shall when you take me to your room,” per- 
sisted the veiled visitor. 


FEMININE FINANCE 


5 


“Louise happens to be my baptismal name, but 
Fm sure I’m not the person you’re looking for — 
so you’d better go,” she answered, still standing 
where the whisperer had first addressed her. She 
was speculating upon the chance of decoying her 
to the front door, opening it, and pushing her out, 
as a desperate means of ridding herself of this most 
unwelcome visitor. 

“I’ll let you see who I am, but don’t speak my 
name,” said the woman, approaching a step or 
two nearer and raising the two veils, that thus far 
during the parley had concealed her features. 

In the dim light Miss Anstey saw and recognized 
a face that she had seen but once before in eighteen 
years. 

“You remember me, I see,” said the woman, 
dropping the veils. “I ” 

“What can you want of me?” interrupted Miss 
Anstey. “Why are you here? What can I do for 
you?” 

“Take me upstairs to your room and I’ll tell you 
— I w T on’t, I can’t do it here. Let’s go right up, 
please.” 

“Miss Holliday, or Mrs. — what is your name?” 
Without waiting for an answer to her question she 
continued : “I am outraged that you ” 

“You needn’t be; I’ll tell you why I’m acting 
this way — I know it strikes you as singular — it 
must. But I can’t help it. I’m perfectly sane, 
never more so — but I’ve the feeling that some one’s 
behind that portiere. I’ll tell you ” 


6 


FEMININE FINANCE 


“You’ll excuse my saying positively,” interrupt- 
ed Miss Anstev again, “that I’ve not the slightest 
intention of taking you to my room. Please ex- 
plain to me here, now, what brought you to me, 
and if I can do anything for you, I will. I cannot 
take you to my room. I am busy to distraction — 
so busy that I didn’t feel that I could spare a mo- 
ment to come down here when the servant an- 
nounced that some one wished to see me. And, 
pardon me again, had you sent up your name or 
your card, I certainly should have declined to see 
you. Being here, however, if you will be brief 
I’ll listen to you, though I cannot imagine what 
you can have to say to me.” 

“I’ve come to stay with you several days !” said 
the woman, still whispering. 

“Impossible! Why should you stay with me, 
or want to?” 

“That’s what I will explain to you when we go 
upstairs.” 

“I will not take you upstairs,” Miss Anstey 
answered, firmly. 

“Oh, yes, please! The quicker the better — let’s 
go right up,” said the woman, coaxingly, moving 
slightly toward the door of the drawing-room which 
led into the hall, and looking about to assure her- 
self that no one save Miss Anstey was present. Her 
veils, combined with the dim light, made it difficult 
for her to be sure even of her footsteps, 

“Do you mean to force yourself on me in this 
high-handed fashion?” 


FEMININE FINANCE 


7 


“Easy, easy now,” said the veiled woman; “be 
civil. I’d do as much for you, an old school- 
mate ” 

“You never were a mate of mine. How dare you 
say you were?” said Miss Anstey, angrily. 

“Excuse me; I was. How else should I have 
known you, or you me?” 

“Schools indeed make us acquainted with strange 
bedfellows, as I am learning this morning. But 
that’s neither here nor there. Tell me what it is 
that you are seeking here — tell it right here where 
we stand — and I may be able to do it; then you 
must go. Frankly, I don’t want you here. This is 
my home — my only one. I have lived here for 
years and the people here are my friends aftd would 
be amazed to learn that I ever knew such a ” 

“Don’t, Louise — I’m in awful trouble. I came 
to you because I had nowhere else in all the world 
to go.” Her breathy whispers were almost sobs, 
and her shoulders shook. “If I had known any 
place where I thought I’d be as safe, I shouldn’t 
have come to you.” 

Miss Anstey’s mental disturbance precluded her 
noticing the doubtful compliment. She looked im- 
patiently at the woman, and with an air of resig- 
nation led the way, quickly and silently, up the 
stairs and into the large front room on the first 
floor above. Seating her guest in the middle of the 
room in a large armchair, she drew up near her 
in a small one. The contrast which the interloper 
presented to her hostess’ dainty prettiness was in- 


8 


FEMININE FINANCE 


deed great. She was stout, florid, with the baby- 
ish, helpless, puffy hands of the physically indolent 
and the morally purposeless. Her face, originally 
small and of a childish prettiness of feature, was 
now large, fat, and evinced unmistakably a too 
great indulgence in the things of sense. Her tight- 
ly corseted figure was erect, and, apparently, a 
matter of no little pride and concern to herself, 
indicated by the habit of placing her hands on her 
hips at the waist-line and pulling and straighten- 
ing herself in her stays. 

Miss Anstey was the first to speak. She had shut 
and locked the door and put the key in her pocket. 
Her fear of the woman had departed on beholding 
her face. 

“Now, tell me, please, in as few words as you 
can, what it is that you want me to do for you.” 

“I have told you. I want you to keep me here 
several days.” 

“Impossible ! This is the only room I have. For 
the time being I need a great deal more space, 
because, as you see, my papers take up so much 
room that I have scarcely any in which to move 
about, to dress, to he! There’s never a vacant bed 
in this house from year’s end to year’s end. If 
I can advise you in any way, I shall be glad to, 
but I can’t keep you here.” 

“I don’t need advice, and that’s not what I came 
for. If you won’t let me stay here wdth you for a 
few days, there’s nothing you can do for me. I 
k want you to keep me here in absolute secrecy. No 


FEMININE FINANCE 


9 


one is to know I’m here — not even the people in 
the house. That maid didn’t see me come upstairs, 
did she?” 

“I think not. My hearing is very keen, and I’m 
pretty sure she was at her work two flights up. 
But that doesn’t alter the fact that I cannot have 
you here. Even if I had plenty of room, and you 
were my own sister, I couldn’t and wouldn’t have 
you here just now. I am engaged on some educa- 
tional work — see all those pages of manuscript 
and proof — and under contract to deliver it, com- 
pleted, on a certain date. I’ve been working at it 
so steadily that I have been taxed to the very ut- 
termost.” 

“Then,” said her guest, “it’s lucky I came. It’ll 
do you good to stop a few days. You’ll work all 
the better and accomplish just as much or more 
when you get at it again after I’m gone.” 

“At it again ! I must not leave off ! It’s impos- 
sible that I should !” 

“People imagine they’re very important,” said 
the caller, looking thoughtful, “but somehow this 
old world goes right on when some very great folks 
are snatched out of it. No one and no one’s work 
is quite as indispensable to the world or to any 
one in it, as they themselves think. I’ve learned 
some things, though I never meddled much with 
books, as you know.” 

A few weeks previous to this conversation, Miss 
Anstey, on shopping intent, was giving her name, 
Miss Louise J. Anstey, — West Ninth Street, New 


10 


FEMININE FINANCE 


York City, Manhattan, to the salesman to insure 
the delivery of her purchase, when the woman 
standing nearest her at the counter, turned and 
putting out a hand, said, smiling: 

“Why, how-dy’-do, Louise? This is certainly a 
pleasant surprise! Don’t you remember me? I’m 
Gussie Holliday, that used to be. You haven’t 
changed a hair — in fact, I believe you look younger 
than you did at school. I’d have known you any- 
where.” Having grasped the extended hand firm- 
ly and held her arm rigidly, to avert the impending 
kiss, Miss Anstey murmured some conventional 
nothings, and made her escape, with eyes down- 
cast, hoping that none of her friends or acquain 
tances saw the greeting. 


CHAPTER II 


Eighteen years prior to this visitation, Miss 
Anstey and her caller had been together at a girls’ 
school in a Connecticut village. Gussie Holliday 
had there been the ringleader in the mischief and 
insubordination that at times kept principal and 
instructors at their wits’ ends. She terminated 
her school career by eloping with a young man of 
the village, whose parents kept a restaurant, sur- 
reptitiously visited by the pupils, to feast upon 
such delicacies as the school menu lacked. Several 
years later, Miss Anstey, in conversation with a for- 
mer schoolmate, learned somewhat of the erratic 
career of the woman — that she had finally taken 
to the comic-opera stage. As that form of diversion 
was not patronized by Miss Anstey, she had not 
seen, probably would not have known had she seen, 
this former acquaintance in her chosen professional 
capacity. Louise remembered that it had been said 
that the young man with whom she had eloped 
had not married her. She knew that after the 
elopement, Miss Holliday’s parents, after the man- 
ner of their kind, had visited the school and charged 
the principal thereof with unwarrantable laxity 
of discipline. Such parents, having failed to con- 


12 


FEMININE FINANCE 


trol their child in any way, are apt to put it at 
school — washing their hands of responsibility — ex- 
pecting principal and teachers, with but brief au- 
thority, to do with and for it, and many others 
quite as undisciplined, what they, parents, with all 
authority, have failed to accomplish. 

Miss Anstey also remembered that following 
hard upon the visit of these indignant and up- 
braiding parents of the eloped one, there had been 
a great tightening of the disciplinary reins in the 
school, and much application to books on the part 
of Miss Holliday’s whilom boon companions. 

a Before we go further, please tell me your 
name,” said Miss Anstey. “When you left school 
you became Mrs. — what was the name of that young 
man in the village?” asked she, feigning ignorance 
of the fact that no marriage had taken place. 

“I never married him,” she answered, with sur- 
prising frankness. “Papa and mamma were 
furious, but as time went on I was gladder and 
gladder that I didn’t. They took me off to Europe 
and trotted me around for two years, and then 
brought me back to the States, proposing to take 

me back to , our old home, where everybody 

knew about that elopement, and that I had been 
away with Johnny Simpson two weeks and had 
no marriage certificate to show for it. I positively 
refused to go back there and look smug and re- 
spectable for the sake of doing the conventional 
social, which I always loathed and always shall 
loathe. I told papa and mamma that I wouldn’t go. 


FEMININE FINANCE 


13 


There was the dickens to pay and they said they’d 
cast me off, and I told them to cast. They knew 
I meant it, and I had my way, as I always had with 
them. So they leased our home for a term of years 
and came to New York and we lived away uptown 
at a family hotel where they didn’t take transients, 
and where people from home wouldn’t be likely to 
come and sniff at me. Within a year I married a 
man named Torrance who lived at the hotel and 
seemed to fancy me, though I cared nothing about 
him and wouldn’t have married him except that 
papa and mamma urged it — being anxious, as I 
suspected then and know now, to rid themselves 
of responsibility for me. In less than six 
months I saw some one I did fancy, and who fan- 
cied me, and there was a shooting, and I had to 
get out. I went to Europe with the man and stayed 
several years, during which Torrance got a divorce 
without making any fuss. I lived over there with 
the man, whose name I took, until an overdose of 
morphine finished him, and I became a ‘widow.’ 
After that I returned to the States and met Larrv 

Gallagher, who was manager of the Comic 

Opera Company, who said there was always room 
for me in his company. So I went on the stage, 
where I’ve been more or less for eight years, though 
I’ve never got further than the chorus. I’ve stuck 
to it pretty close, though occasionally I’ve had a 
rest in Europe.” 

This recital awoke in the listener a horror which 
she could not have expressed. As the relation of 


14 


FEMININE FINANCE 


a phase of life known to her, in common with 
adults of all generations, but whose actualities she 
had never thought to hear from a participant there- 
in, it appalled, while it also fascinated Louise. As 
the relator paused for breath her hostess asked : 

“But what is your name? You haven’t told me 
yet, and I don’t know what to call you.” 

“I’ve had a good many names, but the only one 
that really belonged to me — except Torrance, which 
of course I dropped after leaving him — is the one 
you knew me by at school — Gussie Holliday. So 
you’d better call me that, although for several 
years past I’ve been known as, and called, Tilly 
Baxter.” 

“What!” cried her listener. “Don’t tell me that 
you’re the notori — Tilly Baxter! that I’ve read of 
in the newspapers as creating a half-dozen awful 
scandals — and I don’t take a paper that prints 
much of that sort of thing either. You Tilly Bax- 
ter !” she almost hissed, recoiling from bodily prox- 
imity to the woman. “Now, indeed , yon cannot 
stay here! I am as yet ignorant of why you want 
to stay. If it’s another scandal you’re in, don’t 
tell me about it — I will not know ! I couldn’t help 
or advise you in the least, because my experience 
doesn’t include such things. Please go away. I 
can do you no good, and your presence here may 
do me harm.” 

During this agonized deliverance of Miss An- 
stey’s, her visitor sat regarding her with an ex-j 


FEMININE FINANCE 


15 


pression which hardened momentarily, and as the 
last words were uttered, she arose and took off the 
pongee coat, depositing it with determination atop 
some of the precious manuscript on the couch. This 
done, she seated herself and took out the pins which 
secured her large and expensive hat, thrusting them 
into it again after removing it from her head, and 
tossing all — hat, veil and pins, from where she sat 
in the middle of the room, on to the bed among the 
manuscript sheets. Then she settled back in her 
chair, pulled another in front of her for a foot- 
rest, and said, calmly: 

“I must stay here for a few days, and you’ll 
simply have to put up with me. Now I’ll tell you 
why ” 

“Again I say you cannot stay here. Please go! 
I must go on with my work, and cannot while you 
are here. It’s so disturbing to have any one around 
while trying to do this sort of thing !” said she, in 
despair. 

“But I haven’t any place to go, Louise. I must 
stay here or go to prison. If I went on the street 
now I’d simply invite arrest for complicity in a 
murder. Where’s the morning paper — haven’t you 
read it?” 

“No, no, I don’t want to know about it! I will 
not read it !” Saying which, she went over to the 
table where her morning paper had lain since 
brought in by the maid, and, snatching it up, furi- 
ously tore it into small bits, throwing them into 
her scrap-basket. “It’s terrible that I should be 


16 


FEMININE FINANCE 


placed in such a position! I tell you I must go 
on with my work — 7 must ; and as I told you be- 
fore, even moments are precious to me now.” She 
went eagerly over to the bed, took up the woman’s 
hat and veils, and approaching her, said: “Do 
put it on and go! I’m sorry/ but I can’t help you 
and am in nowise responsible for you. Please go 
— go out of my life — never come into it again!” 

The woman in the big chair stolidly ignored the 
hat and the pleading look and gesture, saying: 
“The worst thing I could possibly do would be to 
leave this house as you ask me to. I stay as much 
in your interest as in my own ! If I went out now 
and the sleuths arrested me, I’d involve you, don’t 
you see?” 

“Oh!” wailed the distressed woman, beginning 
to weep; “why, why did you come?” 

“For self- protection — the very thing that prompts 
you to ask me to go away ! But you see, don’t you, 
that we stand together now — that in protecting me 
you protect yourself ; in refusing to protect me, and 
driving me out to certain arrest, you expose your- 
self to the same thing for harboring me?” 

Her manner was insufferable, her person unen- 
durable, the problem of her presence for the mo- 
ment insoluble, to the whirling brain of the fas- 
tidious and utterly self-centered woman on whom 
she had thrust herself and who was nearer swoon- 
ing than she had ever been in all her unemotional 
thirty-five years of life. Rallying from her faint- 
ness, she asked, as she had several times been on 


FEMININE FINANCE IT 

the point of asking since this visitor’s identity had 
been disclosed in the drawing-room below: 

“How did you find me? My name isn’t in the 
directory.” 

“I remembered the address you gave the sales- 
man in the shop that day I met you, and which 
really made me turn around and look at you. It 
now seems providential that I ran across you then. 
I’ve a remarkable memory for numbers and loca- 
tions.” 

“Once more I ask you to go. There’s no place 
here for you to sleep. I couldn’t let you go down 
to meals, as the men in this house have probably 
seen you dozens of times and know you as Tilly 
Baxter.” 

“No doubt. But I don’t want to go down to 
meals. I don’t want anyone to know I’m here, not 
even the maid. I’ll stand in the closet while she’s 
doing up the room, and I’ll sleep on the floor — 
any way.” 

“I couldn’t let you sleep on the floor, and I 
couldn’t have a cot put up here without exciting 
suspicion. Don’t you see what a web of deception 
and embarrassments and subterfuges I shall weave 
about myself if I try to protect you? And why 
should I ? What earthly claim have you upon me? 
You have deliberately chosen your manner of life 
and continued in it. Doubtless if offered the op- 
portunity to leave it forever and lead a better, a 
moral, upright one, you’d decline. The fact that 
our parents chose the same school for us when we 


IS 


FEMININE FINANCE 


were children or very young girls, gives you no 
claim upon me; and Fll not lie and deceive and 
manoeuvre for you — to protect you from the results 
of your own headstrong, ill-directed course. You 
must go!” 

Tilly regarded her coldly while she wailed this 
forth in whispers, and was quiet a moment after 
Miss Anstey had finished. Then she said: 

“Don’t fool yourself with the idea that Fin go- 
ing, now that I’ve got in here away from those de- 
tectives and the police. I’ve got to stay now, as 
I told you before, as much to keep you out of 
jail as myself. How would you like to be arrested 
for complicity in a murder?” 

The day was very warm, the door closed of ne- 
cessity. The strain of whispering was beginning 
to tell on her, and aggravated, to Miss Anstey’s 
sense, the mental and moral hideousness of the 
woman in the chair. Recovering herself, she said 
in a practical, matter-of-fact way : 

“Even if I were willing to keep you here, how 
are you to be fed? I shall have to eat my own 
meals downstairs. Should I send or bring up 
enough food for you to live upon, it would excite 
suspicion. I’ve lived among these people so long 
that they know I’ve no friends or relatives that 
would be staying with me under circumstances 
that forbade their being seen. Many of my friends 
are theirs and theirs mine. It will be thought suf- 
ficiently strange that during such hot weather I 
should shut and lock my door. My extreme ab- 


FEMININE FINANCE 19 

sorption in my work would account for this in a 
measure, but not fully.” 

“I say, that is a corker ! How am I to eat? I’m 
so hungry now I could eat an elephant stuffed with 
firecrackers ! I haven’t had a bite since last night 
at eleven. Oh, I’ll tell you! We’ll send the maid 
out for some "beer and sandwiches. Isn’t there a 
restaurant near here where we could have things 
sent in?” 

“Beer sent to my room ! What can you be think- 
ing of? And who would be supposed to eat the 
sandwiches and drink the beer? I might as well — 
better — have your meals sent up from the kitchen !” 

“But you don’t expect me to stay here without 
beer, do you?” 

“You’ll not have it here. Upon that I stand 
firm.” 

“Do you mean to say that I’m to have nothing to 
drink while I stay here?” asked she, in her excite- 
ment speaking aloud. 

“Ss — h ! You must whisper. I see you have no 
discretion. Would you, for the gratification of 
your taste for beer or any other drink or food, 
jeopard your life and put me in the position that 
your discovery here would — even though by dozens 
of witnesses I could prove the uprightness of my 
life, and that I am in nowise a sharer in your 
guilt, whatever form it may take?” 

“I’m not guilty. I saw ” 

“Don’t tell me anything. The presence of such 
a character as you in my room; even so remote 


20 


FEMININE FINANCE 


an acquaintance as that of school-days with you, 
would be enough to damage the reputation of any 
woman — whether you are guilty of complicity in 
this dreadful affair or not,” said she, harshly, her 
pretty, oval face aflame, and her gray eyes bright 
with anger and disgust. 

For a few moments there was complete silence* 
The blonde woman sat looking at the toe of her 
boot, and biting her lip, while Miss Anstey’s mind 
was busy. Finally she spoke: 

“If you are determined to stay here, you will go 
without food, but you may have drink •” 

“Ah,” interrupted Tilly, looking up, “I thought 
you’d come to ” 

“But,” interrupted Miss Anstey, in her turn, 
“that drink will serve as food, too. I can, without 
exciting any suspicion, order a quart of milk a 
day, and it can be brought up, a glass three times 
a day, between meals, ostensibly for me, and be 
drunk by you.” 

“Milk! Are you crazy? Milk for me! Make it 
beer !” 

“You’ll be very w^ell off indeed with a quart of 
1 good, rich milk every day. I’ll not order more 
because it might excite suspicion. I eat very spar- 
ingly always, and as I am known to be hard at 
work this summer, it w r ill be accepted as reason- 
able that I should feel the need of extra nourish- 
ment.” 

“A quart of milk a day for me! No, thank you! 
I’ll take a good thick steak, French fried potatoes, 


FEMININE FINANCE 


21 


some Swiss cheese sandwiches and a stein of beer 
for my lunch, the same for dinner, with a broiled 
lobster added, and a cup of coffee for breakfast. 
A quart of milk for me! Fd like my lunch right 
now.” 

Miss Anstey looked at her calmly as she said, 
“ You’ll get nothing other than a quart of milk. 
I’ll order the best there is, but that’s all you’ll 
get.” 

The woman again rose and went over to the bed, 
picked up her hat and put it on, stepping before 
the glass to adjust it properly. Miss Anstey’s 
calmness evidently surprised her. Turning from 
the mirror she said: 

“I can see plainly that you don’t care to pro- 
tect yourself. I’m hungry now. What do you 
suppose I’ll be like after living on a quart of milk 
a day for five or six, or even more, days?” 

“Five or six ! I thought it would be two or three 
at the outside. What can I do with you for such 
a length of time?” 

“It may be more, it may be less — it would have 
to be until this excitement dies down, and the real 
party ” 

“Stop! I’ll not listen,” said Miss Anstey, with 
a warning gesture. 

“Well, you’ll have to order in some beer. Why 
not? What’s the harm in beer more than milk 
or coffee?” 

“It will not be beer.” 

“Then I’ll go.” 


22 


FEMININE FINANCE 


“I have no interest in keeping you here. My in- 
terest lies in having you go! It will be a happy 
moment for me when you depart — the sooner the 
better for me,” said Louise. 

“If I can’t have beer I can’t stay here-^-that’s 
all there is to it. I must have something to drink.” 

“There’s plenty of water. And if you were in 
prison I fancy you’d get no beer. For the time 
being, consider yourself in prison.” 

“No water for me.” 

“If you are determined to go, I’ll ring for the 
maid and tell her to call up the police and have 
you taken. I will keep you here if you’ll listen to 
reason; but unless you do as I say you’ll have no 
opportunity to escape. I’ve got the key to that 
door in my pocket. The doors of this old-fashioned 
house are very substantial and you couldn’t escape 
from this room except by throwing yourself from 
the window, and I know you are not courageous 
enough to face certain death. You would better 
take chances and go to prison. The whole matter 
is in my hands. My uprightness and respectability 
are unimpeachable. I haven’t lived a life of study 
and decency all these years to have such a state- 
ment as I should make to the police doubted. Any 
one that knows me would vouch for my veracity 
in relating your imposition upon me, and my repu- 
tation would not suffer — although in the first hor- 
ror of your being here I was foolish enough to 
believe that it would — by being mentioned in con- 
nection with an unsavory affair such as you inti- 


FEMININE FINANCE 


23 


mate has taken place. But to disclose myself as 
related to it even remotely and innocently, would 
be a choice of evils, the other alternative being to 
have you take the time I have promised to spend 
in work that means much to me and to others — 
putting me in the position for the first time in my 
life of inventing subterfuges and bringing suspicion 
upon myself, and then dictating to me what shall 
and what shall not be done in my room — in my 
presence. I’ll not be bullied another moment.’’ 

She spoke in a hoarse whisper, and with such a 
determined light in her eyes, that the stout woman, 
whose veils had by this time been adjusted on the 
hat ready to be pulled over her face, sat down, re- 
garding her seriously, seemingly somewhat sub- 
dued. 

Miss Anstey continued: “The trouble with you 
is, you have no intelligence. Had you any, you 
would have learned before reaching the age of 
thirty-five or thirty-six that your manner of life 
can never bring you any satisfaction — could have 
pictured the end from the beginning — supposing 
this to be the end. What the real end will be I 
do not presume to prophesy. I was foolish enough 
to allow you to bully me into believing I was 
obliged to keep you here for my own protection. 
You stay here for your own protection, not mine. 
I hope I may always defend myself from the knowl- 
edge of the specific affair your connection with 
which you are seeking to hide. I despise such af- 
fairs and the people who create and are connected 


24 


FEMININE FINANCE 


with them. They know they’re vile and still per- 
sist in vileness ; and if they reap whereof they have 
sown, there’s scriptural warrant for and poetic 
justice in it.” 

“It’s all right, what you say about sowing and 
reaping,” Tilly replied, “but you must remember 
that I didn’t commit this — this,” she hesitated, 
seeing Miss Anstey’s warning glance, “although I 
saw it done and know who did it; and from facts 
in my life that would be brought out if I were 
known to have been there, I might be accused of 
it, and the one who really did it, escape. If I lie 
low they’ll scratch around and find the real one. 
I’ve enough respect for the memory of my parents 
and such bringing-up as they did give me, not to 
want to be known in connection w 7 ith this affair 
in any way — and I certainly don’t want to be even 
named as the chief actor in it.” 

“Then accept my terms — my bed, and a quart of 
milk a day as long as you’re here, and stay.” 

“All but the milk!” said Tilly, with a visible 
shrinking. “Do you mean what you say?” 

“Don’t doubt it for a moment. Stay here and 
live on milk, or go in charge of an officer. I’ll not 
permit you to leave in your own way.” 

“Oh, very well, I’ll take off my ‘bunnit’ and stay 
and make you a little visit,” said she, with a pitiful 
attempt at pleasantry. 

“The other conditions on which you may stay,” 
said Miss Anstey, “are — although your acceptance 
of the others implies your acceptance of these: 


FEMININE FINANCE 


25 


You are to be absolutely quiet — not to speak above 
a whisper; the door is to be kept shut, no matter 
how high the mercury mounts, and I am to keep 
the key in my pocket. When I leave the room I 
am to lock the door and take the key with me; 
you are to keep away from the windows, and while 
the maid is doing up the room in the morning, 
you are to be locked in the clothes-closet. You are 
to make no effort to see or speak to the maid ; and 
when any one knocks at my door, you are to go 
at once into the closet and remain there quietly 
until I unlock it and let you out. I shall have 
to whisper, too, as I never have been known 
to talk to myself, and to develop the habit sudden- 
ly might be thought strange. You have no lug- 
gage, have you?” 

“No ; I assure you I started suddenly. In fact, 
that coat isn’t mine. I snatched it and put it on 
to disguise myself because this gown is rather con- 
spicuous,” said she, looking down at the handsome 
and expensive black and white silk gown which 
encased her stoutness. “The coat is too small for 
me, so tight across the shoulders I can scarcely 
wink in it; but I wasn’t picking and choosing nor 
criticising fit or finish when I put it on,” said she, 
seriously. 

“Then you might be arrested as a thief, too, 
might you not?” Miss Anstey was enlarging her 
knowledge of ways of life. How dare any one take 
things that belonged to another and make no skele- 
ton of it? “There’s as much difference in folks as 


26 


FEMININE FINANCE 


anybody,” as has been said by one of our national 
wits, occurred to Miss Anstey’s mind with renewed 
force. “Fll give you a new tooth-brush, and I 
guess we can make one of my night-gow T ns fit you, 
although you’re much larger than I.” 

The lunch hour having arrived, Miss Anstey 
rose, saying : “I’m going to my luncheon now and 
you’ll have to submit to being locked in. Now, re- 
member that I’ve no proof that you are innocent 
of the thing you’re likely to be accused of; and 
you have promised that you will keep away from 
the windows when I’m out. When I’m in the 
room I’ll see to it that you do. I’ll return as soon 
as I can. If any one knocks keep perfectly quiet. 
There are no transoms to the doors in this house, 
and there’s no key to that door but this one that 
I’m keeping with me. So no one is likely to see 
you or know you’re here, if you’ll keep quiet.” 

“Don’t hurry back on my account. I’m not 
going to be lonely. I’m awfully hungry, though, 
I feel as if I could eat the soap.” 

During luncheon Miss Anstey was noticeably 
abstracted, albeit she made an effort to be chatty 
and natural. Her lapses into silence were set down 
to preoccupation with her work. She made a 
feeble pretense of eating, and, discouraged, said 
to the waitress: “I’m really not hungry and can 
eat nothing. I’ll make a sandwich and take it to 
my room and if I get hungry during the afternoon, 
will eat it there. Please have the cook order for 
me from the grocer when he comes, a box of crack- 


FEMININE FINANCE 


27 


ers, some substantial sort, and have a quart of the 
certified milk left for me daily until I order other- 
wise.” 

With the sandwich on a plate, covered with a 
napkin, she presented herself at the door of her 
own room. She was quite unprepared for the sight 
that greeted her. Engrossed with her guest pre- 
vious to leaving the room, she had paid no atten- 
tion to her papers, and left them as they were when 
the visitor entered. The latter, left to her own de- 
vices, had divested herself of her gown, and, re- 
moving the papers, regardless of order or sequence, 
had put them on the floor, possessing herself of the 
couch, on which she now lay, fast asleep and snor- 
ing loudly. The astonished Miss Anstey closed her 
door and locked it. Donning her loose cotton work- 
ing dress, she began assorting and rearranging the 
papers with which the vandal had dealt so rudely. 
Afterwards, her guest sleeping on, and thinking it 
would be foolish to allow the woman’s presence to 
interfere with her work, she made an attempt to 
go on with it. But she spent so much time looking 
at the big inert body on the bed, and in conjecture 
as to the final outcome of this strange experience, 
that she made no progress. 

She assumed from the length and depth of the 
woman’s slumber, that she had had none the night 
before; and was relieved when, at half after five 
o’clock, the sleeper awoke and turned slightly on 
her side to look at her hostess, who, with pen raised, 
looked at her. 


28 


FEMININE FINANCE 


“Well,” whispered Miss Anstey, “you’ve had a 
good rest, haven’t you?” 

“Yes,” answered the woman, following her ex- 
ample and whispering. “I always sleep until I get 
enough, no matter what happens around me. I’m 
awfully hungry. I wish the cow would come home. 
It must be near milking time. What time is it?” 

“It’s after five o’clock. I’ve got a sandwich which 
I brought up for you from luncheon, which I’ve 
been trying to keep moist for you; but I’m afraid 
it’s pretty dry by this time.” As the woman had 
declared herself hungry, Miss Anstey assumed that 
the announcement that even a sandwich awaited 
her would be the signal for her to rise and prepare 
to devour it. But the prostrate one continued so, 
saying: 

“If you’ll hand me the sandwich I’ll eat it now. 
I’m perfectly ravenous.” She had, apparently, no 
intention of leaving the couch or even of sitting 
up on it. To have the woman lie on her beautiful 
couch cover was agony enough to its fastidious 
owner — but to eat a sandwich upon it ! She would 
permit no such thing. She therefore intimated that 
the sandwich might taste better if the prospective 
devourer thereof were to rise and refresh herself 
by bathing her face and hands. This would give 
the opportunity to remove the cover. And while 
her guest w T as splashing the water over her face and 
shoulders, the bed was stripped of its spread, and 
the pillows arranged properly for the night. 

When the hungry woman had finished her ablu- 


FEMININE FINANCE 


29 


tions, instead of sitting at the table where the plate 
had been placed, she again deposited herself on the 
bed, and asked that it be handed her. This was 
done, Miss Anstev returning to her desk, where she 
sat while the food disappeared. 

Sleep at once claimed the guest again. At the 
usual hour Miss Anstey dressed and descended to 
her dinner, which she ate in comparative calm, such 
in fact as she wondered could possess her soul, 
bearing in mind the skeleton — albeit a very sub- 
stantial and well-upholstered one — in her closet. 

Dinner over, having no food for her guest, and 
assuming that the latter still slept, the unwilling 
hostess tarried a while for conversation in the draw- 
ing-room, loth to return to an atmosphere so un- 
congenial as that in her own room. When she final- 
ly reached there the loud snoring still rent the air. 
This she tried to abate, or change the key thereof, 
by shaking the sleeper, and altering the position 
of her head. Hoping that the matter might right 
itself before the appearance of the maid with the 
ice-water for the night, she put her ice-pitcher into 
the hall, shutting the door and locking it. She 
then seated herself in the semi-darkness, comforted 
somewhat by the reflection that her guest’s presence 
was safer from detection while she slept and even 
snored, than would be the case with her awake 
and whispering, constantly tempted to lapse into 
vocal speech. As she could not work, she refrained 
from turning on the light, which would have in- 


30 FEMININE FINANCE 

creased the heat and might have awakened the 
sleeper. 

Her mind was busy with this most unusual 
dilemma and filled with abhorrence of the big, ir- 
responsible creature. But having gone so far, she 
could see no other course than to keep her until 
she was ready to take her leave. 

Bed-time came, and she began her preparations 
for the night, for which the open and partly-shut- 
tered windows admitted sufficient light from the 
street. The young man who occupied the room ad- 
joining her own, being a journalist, would not re- 
turn for several hours, and might not return at all, 
having frequently to work all night. She deemed 
it best to get what sleep she w T as to have, before 
the hour for his possible return, in order that she 
might be awake and ready to quiet her guest, 
should the interloper arouse — assuming that she 
would by that time had had sufficient sleep — and 
want to sit up and talk. 

She therefore converted the Morris chair as near- 
ly as possible into a couch, and, with a pillow, 
composed herself to sleep. But although she was 
exceedingly w r eary, sleep did not come readily. 
What had in the broad light of day seemed bad 
enough, in the oncoming and almost complete 
silence of the summer night in that quiet street, 
assumed to her aroused imagination horror un- 
nameable. What awful thing had happened? She 
was not the sort of woman to whom a man would 
mention a scandal, so that those with whom she 


FEMININE FINANCE 


31 


had chatted after dinner — the wives, daughters and 
most of the other women of the household being in 
the country for the summer — had mentioned noth- 
ing of the affair to which she was indebted for her 
uncomfortable couch. Once she was tempted to 
rise and satisfy herself by putting together some 
of the scraps of the morning paper ; but on the whole 
she deemed it best to continue in ignorance of the 
details of the tragedy. So she drifted off to sleep, 
intending to awake at one o’clock to make sure that 
all was well. 


CHAPTER III 


It was broad daylight when Miss Anstey awoke, 
feeling stale and unrefreshed. As she opened her 
eyes she looked into those of the woman on the 
couch opposite. By pantomime she commanded her 
guest not to speak aloud, and disappeared for her 
bath, from which, later, she emerged, and indicated 
to Tilly that it was time for her to rise and refresh 
herself in like manner. While the big woman was 
engaged in this preliminary to a comfortable day, 
Miss Anstey proceeded with her toilet for break- 
fast. The morning was warm, much more so than 
the previous one, and Tilly, apparently languid. 
She came out of the bath closet clad in Miss An- 
stey’s blue and white cotton kimono, large and loose 
for its owner, but much too short for its present 
wearer. Her toes were thrust in her hostess’ straw 
bath slippers. Seating herself in the big chair, she 
watched Miss Anstey arrange the beautiful coils 
of rich brown hair, their owner’s special pride and 
care. 

Miss Anstey hoped that her guest’s subdued man- 
ner had its origin in contrition for her misspent life 
in general, and her petulance and general offen- 
siveness of the previous day, in particular. As she 
32 


FEMININE FINANCE 


33 


finished her toilet she was beckoned to, and ap- 
proaching her companion, was asked in w T hispers: 

“When’s that milk coming up? I can’t stand 
this much longer. I’ll go wild — I’m on the point 
of biting my own arm now.” 

“It’s probably downstairs, but I can’t let you 
have it until I shall have had my breakfast. We 
must be consistent. The milk is supposed to be 
for me between meals, and I’ll bring up a glass 
of it when I return from breakfast. I’ll not keep 
you waiting a moment longer thar. necessary. It 
will be thought a most unusual proceeding by 
Martha, the maid, for me to shut and lock my door 
such a hot morning, when I am in the habit of leav- 
ing the doors and windows open to give the bed and 
room a thorough airing. But you couldn’t stay 
in the closet all that time — while I’d be breakfast- 
ing, and Martha doing up the room.” 

Tilly said nothing, so Miss Anstey stripped the 
bed, putting sheets, etc., about the room for the air- 
ing; and, turning to the woman, said: “I’m going 
now; better dress yourself, and when I return I 
shall ask you to go in the closet and let me lock 
you in, and call Martha to come and do the work at 
once. So we’ll soon be settled for the day, and you 
can read, or lie down, or occupy yourself as you 
like. I shall have to work hard to make up for the 
loss of almost the whole of yesterday. Whatever 
else happens, that work must be done.” 

The woman looked bored, and rising, brought her 


34 


FEMININE FINANCE 


garments from the bath closet and pitched them 
into a chair some distance from her. 

“Now I’m going,” said Miss Anstey. “You’ll find 
a fresh brush and comb on the dressing-table — the 
one at the left.” 

She returned with a glass of milk on a small 
tray. Her guest, apparently, had not moved dur- 
ing her absence, as she had not combed her hair 
nor donned a garment. The hostess w T as exceeding- 
ly vexed that she should have failed to make some 
effort to dress while she had the privacy of the 
room in which to do it. 

“Ah,” whispered the hungry one, loudly, as 
Louise handed her the tray, “I never thought I’d 
see the day when I’d be so glad to see a little baby- 
food. I never was without food so long, and I’m 
starving — positively starving.” Having emptied 
the glass in three gulps she asked: “Can’t I have 
more? This little bit is just an aggravation.” 

“I’ve ordered some crackers for you; the grocer 
hadn’t been in when I was downstairs, but he’ll 
come soon and I’ll send Martha down to the kitchen 
for them when she’s through the work here.” She 
put the empty glass and tray out of sight lest 
Martha winder at her taking food so soon after 
breakfast. Picking up the clothing which Tilly 
had flung unceremoniously on to a chair, she hung 
each garment in the closet. She then approached 
Tilly, saying: 

“The moment has come when you will have to 
go in the closet. As soon as you’re there I’ll ring 


FEMININE FINANCE 


35 


for Martha and ask her to be as quick as possible 
about the work here.” 

The woman’s uncorseted figure filled the chair. 
Miss Anstey stood before her awaiting some move- 
ment on her part, which she seemed disinclined to 
make. The strain on temper and patience was 
great, but the hostess controlled herself, and finally 
took Tilly by the arm, shaking her gently while 
she said : “Come ; aren’t you going to keep your 
part of the bargain? This will never do. Get up, 
please, and go in the closet.” 

“I’m hungry, I tell you! I haven’t had enough 
to eat.” 

“You shall have the crackers as soon as I can 
get them.” 

“This thing of starving is awful. I can’t stand 
it.” 

“Don’t be silly. You can stand it; any one can 
stand what they have to stand, and you have to 
stand this. Just think if you were on a desert is- 
land without food, you’d get along without it, pos- 
sibly weeks. People don’t starve in a day or 
two ” 

“What do you know about starvation? Did you 
ever try it?” 

Miss Anstey took no notice of the interruption, 
but continued : 

“Just think how much better off you are here 
than you would be on a desert island — a good bed 
to sleep in, a quiet room and no one to molest you — 
plenty of time to think, a nice cold bath this hot 


36 


FEMININE FINANCE 


morning, and a glass of good, rich milk! If you 
were on a desert island and had but one glass of 
milk, I’m sure you’d have sufficient self-control to 
make it last as long as possible, taking only a few 
sips each day until it was gone,” assuming a tone 
as though speaking to a spoiled child. But this 
child was precocious and replied : 

“Nonsense; it’d sour; and as a bird in the hand’s 
worth two in the bush, I’d take it all while I could 
be sure of it. You talk as though I were a fool! 
And where would anybody get a glass of milk on 
a desert island? If fresh milk was to be had there, 
there’d be a cow, and if there was a cow it wouldn’t 
be a desert!” 

Miss Anstey’s patience was wearing thin. The 
warm morning, the necessity for whispering, the 
woman’s unreasonableness, all tended to aggravate 
the trying situation. She stood silently before her 
ill-behaved guest a moment longer, and in despera- 
tion was about to take her by the arm when Tilly 
wailed in whispers: “Do get me something to eat!” 

“I’ve told you before there’s no good in being 
silly. You must learn self-control ” 

“Self-control ! Did you ever go hungry a minute 
in your life? Did you ever want to do anything 
that you didn’t do?” 

“Yes,” was the reply; “I want my room to myself 
now. I want to go on with my work instead of 
standing here coaxing a grown-up woman to behave 
as one instead of like a naughty, four-year -old 
child — a woman whose conduct, sensible or silly, 


FEMININE FINANCE 


37 


can make no possible difference to me ! What I am 
coaxing you to do is not for my good. I should be 
much better off to take you to my door, thrust you 
into the hall, and wash my hands of you entirely.” 
She walked calmly over to her desk, and began 
straightening the papers thereon, preparatory to 
seating herself. Looking up again, she whispered 
loudly, and with much determination : 

“Once more; are you going into that closet? 
Speak quickly!” 

“I’m tired and I’m hungry! It’s an unearthly 
hour to be out of bed. I’m not accustomed to get- 
ting up so early. It’s only half-past eight now and 
I’ve been up an hour. I’m always cross in the morn- 
ing and accustomed to a big cup of strong coffee,” 
she wailed. 

“You can’t have it here. You are not here be- 
cause I want you, nor by my invitation. I’m sorry 
you make it necessary for me to remind you of this 
constantly; but you are so completely childish.” 

“Even a child has to have something to eat in 
the morning besides milk; that is, if it has been 
weaned — and I assure you I have, long ago.” 

“You show your incapacity for thinking as a 
grown-up, responsible human being,” scolded Miss 
Anstey, “by declining to go into the closet, because 
every moment spent in parleying about the crack- 
ers delays their arrival. Can’t you understand 
that?” She had again risen and was standing be- 
fore the woman in the chair. “Come,” resuming 
the coaxing tone, “I’ll put a chair in the closet for 


38 


FEMININE FINANCE 


you — this small one,” said she, lifting it into the 
closet, “so that you may sit, if you feel tired.” 

“It’s awfully hot to go in the closet. Think of 
being shut up in there ! I’ll suffocate !” 

“You’ll do no such thing. It won’t be cool and 
comfortable, but you can stand it. Come.” Taking 
the woman’s arm, she pulled her gently up from 
the chair and across the room, into the closet, seat- 
ing her on the chair therein. Then she crossed 
the room and rang for Martha, returning to 
close and lock the door, putting the key in her 
pocket. The picture of the comparatively small, 
dainty, and determined-looking Miss Anstey, lead- 
ing the big kimono-clad, lagging figure across the 
room as though the latter were a child doomed to 
temporary seclusion for some infraction of nursery 
discipline, was exceedingly amusing. But Louise, 
not lacking in a certain appreciation of the humor- 
ous side of things, was absolutely unconscious of 
any but the serious aspect of this dilemma, 

Martha soon appeared. She found Miss Anstey 
seated at her desk, apparently at work. But while 
seemingly busy, she was really wondering what 
would be the outcome of this woman’s presence in 
her room — if she dared tell Emalene. Of course 
she would tell Emalene! Did not everyone tell 
Emalene everything? Emalene was the one person 
beneath the sky to whom she would tell this, with 
absolute certainty of sympathy and with full ap- 
preciation of all its phases and possibilities. She 
had not seen nor heard of this friend in some time. 


FEMININE FINANCE 


39 


and wondered if she were in town. This was about 
the time of year that that small person usually took 
her vacation, and she was, probably, somewhere in 
the country enjoying herself, as only Emalene 
could enjoy herself, wherever she might be. She 
would write and invite her to dine some time in the 
near future, and thus provide the opportunity to 
rehearse to her, after this episode should have be- 
come a thing of the past, all its vexatious details. 
Thinking thus, her left elbow on the desk, her head 
supported thereby, pen idly in her right hand, she 
gazed with unseeing eyes on the half-written sheet 
on the pad before her, while Martha moved quietly 
about the room, looking now and again toward the 
silent woman at the desk, not daring to disturb, 
but hoping for a bit of conversation with her. Look- 
ing up, Miss Anstey found the servant’s eyes fixed 
— suspiciously, as she interpreted the gaze — upon 
her. Hoping to ward off suspicion, she hastily re- 
marked, thinking the weather a safe topic: 

“It’s a delightful morning, isn’t it, Martha?” 

“No’m, Ah don’t think it’s delightful, an’ I 
ain’t seen anybody but yuh that thinks it is; 
ev’body I see this mahnin’ cayn’t get they breath 
fur de heat an’ the closeness. Yuh mus’ be sick, 
Miss Anstey — what’s th’ rnattah?” 

“I didn’t really mean to say it was cool. I meant 
to say warm. I spoke in a little fit of absent- 
mindedness.” 

“Ah gess anybody that calls this kin’ of a mah- 
nin’ delightful’s thinkin’ o’ somepin’ else ’sides th’ 


40 


FEMININE FINANCE 


weathah,” replied Martha; and after a silence of 
a moment she added : 

“That — lady — what called tuh see yuh yistiddy 
mahnin’, Miss Anstey, was she cullud?” 

“No, Martha, why do you ask?” 

“Well, Miss Anstey, Ah couldn’t see huh face, 
nor huh han’s — she had on them stylish long gloves 
— plenty niggahs wears ’em — an’ yuh know she had 
huh face all done up in brown veils — I gess da mus’ 
’a’ been three of ’em ; an’ she talk jus’ lak a niggah 
— jus’ lak a cullud pusson — mo’ lak one ’an I do, 
an’ Gaud A mows Em thoroughly cullud!” Appar- 
ently Tilly had assumed a dialect in the effort to 
disguise herself. 

“She was well veiled,” said Miss Anstey, smil- 
ing, and hoping fervently that Martha would pur- 
sue the subject no further. 

“I didn’t see huh go out, Miss Anstey. Ah cer- 
t’nly was ’sprised, no mattah whether she was 
cullud or plain, to have huh come to this house 
askin’ for any o’ ouah ladies.” 

Miss Anstey was at a loss to decide upon the 
better course to allay the suspicions of the ob- 
servant Martha — whether to appear preoccupied 
and make no answer, or to respond to her last re- 
mark in some evasive fashion. The crackers com- 
ing uppermost in her mind, she said, quickly: 

“By the way, Martha, I ordered a box of crack- 
ers. Will you go down and bring them up — the 
grocer has certainly arrived by this time — and also 
bring up a good lot of cracked ice.” 


FEMININE FINANCE 


41 


“Yas’m,” said the willing handmaiden, starting 
at once. As she disappeared down the back stairs, 
Miss Anstey ran to the closet and opened the door. 
Her guest sat within, looking somewhat crestfallen ; 
and as the fresh air was admitted she rose and 
was about to move out into the room, but Miss 
Anstey restrained her, saying: 

“I’ll leave the door open, but don’t come out 
into the room yet. I’ll meet Martha at the top of 
the stairs, and take the box and ice from her there. 
As she has finished her work here there will be 
no occasion for her to return.” 

Tilly remained in the closet, and while there 
donned all her garments but her gown. Miss 
Anstey had cut one of her own lawn wrappers in 
the arm’s-eyes to loosen it across the back, and left 
it for her to put on. She was, therefore, pleased to 
note, on her return, Tilly’s more presentable ap- 
pearance. 

“Now,” said she, “here are the crackers, and good 
cold water. At luncheon I shall make you a hearty 
sandwich, and, with your glass of milk during the 
afternoon, you won’t be so badly off.” 

She opened the box, and with the little tray, clean 
napkin, glass and ice-pitcher, prepared the very 
frugal spread on the corner of her big table. Then 
she drew up a chair for Tilly, who seated herself 
and silently began the onslaught thereon. 


CHAPTER IV 


Tilly seemed very subdued, and her hostess 
seated herself, hoping to make some progress with 
her manuscript. She, however, found it impossi- 
ble to work, and, instead, wrote a note to Emalene 
Carruthers, sealed and stamped it. By the time 
this was done, her guest had, apparently, eaten as 
many crackers as she cared for, and settled back 
in her chair, gazing idly before her. Seeing her 
vacant look, Louise went toward her, asking: 

“Would you like to read? There are plenty of 
books here, some very good novels, if you like 
stories, or here are the late magazines. Do you 
care for them?” 

“No; I don’t want to read. I think I’ll lie down. 
I’m tired. Lack of food is telling on me.” 

“Did you have enough crackers?” 

“Yes; they’re filling, particularly when they’re 
washed down with water,” saying which she arose 
and was about to deposit herself on the couch when 
Miss Anstey said: 

“If you’re going to lie down I’ll remove the 
cover of the bed: you will be more comfortable to 
lie on the counterpane.” She folded the handsome 
fabric, removed the silken cushions, and arranged 

42 


FEMININE FINANCE 


43 


the pillows. Tilly was about to recline thereon 
when there came a knock at the door, and hastily 
concealing her guest in the closet and rearranging 
the couch, Miss Anstey opened the door to admit — 
Emalene Carruthers! 

“Emalene!” exclaimed she, kissing her friend. 
“How opportune! I’ve just written you a letter; 
see, here it is. I wondered if you were in town. I 
haven’t seen you in two months.” Had there not 
been so cordial an understanding between the two 
women, Emalene might have noticed Louise’s fail- 
ure to invite her to remove her hat. This omission 
was intentional, and Louise was somewhat per- 
plexed when her friend said: 

“I’ll take off my hat, although I can’t stay long 
with you. This is my first vacation day and I’m 
to leave town on the afternoon train. I stayed 
here to-day in order to do a little necessary shop- 
ping — I needed so many small things; and as I 
wanted to put them in my trunk and send it off, 
I carried my packages, as you see. I couldn’t bear 
to leave town without seeing you — I haven’t seen 
you for so long. How are you?” she asked, squeez- 
ing her friend’s arm affectionately. 

“I’m — I’m well, very well, Emalene. What 
place is to be made the fashion by your presence 
this summer?” 

“I’m going up to Hemmelston, N. Y. — to the Hill- 
side House,” she replied, as they seated themselves. 
. “There are mountains — not very big ones, but beau- 


44 


FEMININE FINANCE 


tiful views — the lake where I can row a little, and 
always very nice people.” 

“Have you ever been there? How do you know 
the people are nice? Did some one tell you?” 

“I’ve never been there, but Mrs. Hazard — you 
remember my telling you of her — the friend I made 
through Mrs. Langford’s daughter-in-law ” 

“No; I’m hearing of these people for the first 
time. Even if I had heard I probably couldn’t re- 
member. It would take a full set of books to keep 
track of all the people you are likely to mention 
as dear and intimate friends in a half-hour’s con- 
versation.” 

“And Rosamond Gray is to be there for a week 
while I am, and her Uncle Geoffrey a day or two.” 

“But you haven’t yet told me how you learned 
that there are nice people at Hemmelston, where, 
within two days of your arrival, you’ll probably 
have a greater following than the parson’s wife,” 
said Louise, smiling. For a moment she forgot, 
in the peace and sweetness of her friend’s presence, 
the one in the closet. Then, remembering the latter, 
she changed expression so suddenly that Emalene 
asked: 

“What is it, Louise? What’s troubling you?” 

“Why should anything be troubling me?” 

“I can tell readily enough. You seem con- 
strained. Am I in the way? Of course I am. I 
can see you’re as busy as a cranberry merchant ! I 
don’t mean to stay. How is the book getting 
on? I’m so interested in it, though you may 



" We can’t carry such a big woman ! " wailed Louise 

Page 45 



















































FEMININE FINANCE 


45 


think Fve been a long time manifesting my 
interest. What shall you do with yourself 
when it’s done? You mustn’t deny yourself a 
good rest.” All this with Emalene’s inimitable 
and indescribable air of affectionate concern. 
Louise longed to tell her of her predicament, and 
was about to propose that they go down to the 
drawing-room, where they could talk undisturbedly, 
when from the closet there issued the sound of 
snores so terrific as for the moment to startle the 
two women. The two friends regarded each other, 
Emalene in mute inquiring amazement, tempered 
with charity, Louise with disgusted appeal. For 
a second neither spoke, and the sounds continued, 
Seeing no other course, Louise was about to ex- 
plain, briefly, when her embarrassment gave place 
to alarm on hearing a bump and a thump within 
the closet. She flew at the door, unlocked and 
opened it, to find the closet’s occupant on the floor, 
where she lay unconscious, Emalene, who had 
followed her, seeing that the poor creature had 
fallen with her neck twisted, deftly straightened 
the head and shoulders, and knelt with the woman’s 
torso resting against her knee, fanning her rapidly 
with a palm-leaf which she had in her hand when 
startled by the fall. Louise brought water, and 
the sufferer seemed to revive with its application to 
her face, though she did not immediately return 
to consciousness. Emalene proposed that she be 
carried out into the room, where they could better 
minister to her. 


46 


FEMININE FINANCE 


“We can’t carry such a big woman!” wailed 
Louise. “Oh, if she should die! What an awful 
thing it would be! I should be disgraced for life!” 
Emalene asked no questions. She was far from 
understanding this extraordinary happening, but 
was sure it had an explanation that was reasonable 
and creditable. She insisted, however, that the 
woman be brought out of the closet, saying : 

‘Come, take hold, Louise. Don’t be afraid. We 
can’t lift her high, but we can drag her along. 
Let’s both take hold of her at the top and pull. 
I’m strong, and I think you are stronger.” 

They laid hold of the big shoulders, as Emalene 
had suggested, one on either side. By pulling and 
tugging, they succeeded in getting the unconscious 
woman within range of the air that came in through 
one of the windows. Emalene bolstered the head 
and shoulders with pillows, and sat fanning her 
with an expression of kindly anxiety when the 
woman opened her eyes. 

During the excitement Emalene had advised that 
a physician be summoned ; but Louise had explained 
m a few broken sentences the impossibility of call- 
ing one. 

While one of her guests fanned and otherwise 
ministered unto the other, Miss Anstey sat, wring- 
ing her hands and moaning in agonized alarm: 
“Oh, why am I so afflicted with this woman? I, 
who never knew her except as the class dolt and 
school mischief-maker. Emalene, you’ve no idea 
what I put up with from her yesterday — she all 


FEMININE FINANCE 


47 


but swore, in my presence! And I gave up the 
whole day to her; think of her daring to take my 
time, to monopolize my room, my bath, my bed — 
everything! I can’t even have a chat with you!” 

“Hush, Louise, you’ll disturb her. It wouldn’t 
be kind to have her awake hearing you say such 
things,” still fanning and watching for signs of 
returning consciousness on the fat blonde face, 
These finally came, and the woman looked into the 
kind blue eyes of the little woman on the low stool, 
who said gently: 

“Are you better? Can you answer me?” 

“Who are you?” she asked. 

“I’m Miss Anstey’s friend. Are you all right?” 

“Yes; but I didn’t want anyone to know I was 
here. That’s the reason I went into the closet, 
and ” 

“It couldn’t be helped — I had to know you were 
here. You know what happened, don’t you?” 

“I went off to sleep. I guess I snored.” 

“Yes, you did. But never mind. Miss Anstey 
has told me a little and I’m sorry for you. I’ve 
read the papers— Miss Anstey hasn’t,” said she, 
looking steadily at the woman. 

“Louise Anstey,” said Tilly aloud, the presence 
of Emalene permitting audible speech, “you said 
you’d let no one know of my being here, and now—” 

“It was impossible to prevent it— I had to let 
her know. You fell in such a position that you 
were likely to have an apoplectic seizure and die 
on our hands. If Miss Carruthers hadn’t known 


48 


FEMININE FINANCE 


what to do, if this seizure had come while I was 
here alone with you, I should have been helpless. 
I’m so alarmed now that I’m not willing you should 
stay here any longer. I can never take the chance 
of being so frightened again — you must get up and 
dress and go as soon as you can. You must — I’ve 
bothered with you all I shall bother with you,” 
said she, in great excitement. 

“Louise!” exclaimed Emalene, reprovingly; “how 
can you?” 

“I cannot put up with any more nonsense — I 
will not! This creature’s insulting, it’s a dis- 
grace ” 

Emalene arose, and going to Louise as she sat 
on the edge of the couch, and upon which for a 
moment or two during the woman’s unconscious- 
ness she had prostrated herself in an agony of 
alarm and indecision, put one arm about her, and 
gently stopped her mouth with her disengaged hand, 
entreating: “Say no more, please.” 

Returning in a moment to the woman on the 
floor, she leaned over her saying : 

“You realize, don’t you, how very awkward it 
would have been for Miss Anstey, for me, even — 
who never saw you until twenty minutes ago, 
though I’ve often heard of you — had your seizure 
proved fatal, as it easily might have? You and 
Miss Anstey don’t understand each other, which, 
considering the differences between you, tempera- 
mental, and otherwise, isn’t so strange. Now,” 
with a manner thoroughly kind, but serious as well, 


FEMININE FINANCE 


49 


“I want you to tell me what connection you had 
with this affair. Are you guilty in any way what- 
soever in relation to it? The truth now, nothing 
but the truth,” said she, in a gently warning voice. 

“No, I am not. I had nothing to do with it, al- 
though I saw it done. There were other witnesses, 
so they don’t need me to prove that it was done or 
who did it, although yesterday I did tell Louise 
that I might be accused of it — I lied that much be- 
cause I was so anxious to stay here with her — even 
though she didn’t want me, showed, and even said, 
she loathed me. You must know that even I was 
very hard-pressed for a place to be, to have stayed 
here in spite of that. I had nowhere else to go. 
I saw it done and I know who did it — but as others 
saw and know, there’s no reason to chase me.” 

“Then you don’t feel that it’s your duty to speak 
the word that would bring the real culprit to jus- 
tice?” asked Emalene. 

“No. There are others that can do that as well 
as I, and I’ll not be lugged into this case.” 

“Your presence here is distressing to Miss Anstey 
on many accounts. You shouldn’t blame her for 
feeling disturbed, as she does, by your presence. 
The presence of any one just now would be an- 
noying to her. Though we are intimate friends, 
knowing her to be engaged on this work, I have 
kept away from her because I know she needs to 
give all her time to it. Don’t you think you would 
do better to go to some friend upon whom you 
have more claim, one of your own companions, who 


50 


FEMININE FINANCE 


understands you and will sympathize with you 
more than Miss Anstey can? I wouldn’t suggest 
this if I could take you. But I’m going out of town 
this afternoon for my vacation. All you want is 
shelter for a few days to keep your knowledge of 
this affair from the authorities, and then return to 
your usual life, is it not?” 

‘That’s all. I couldn’t lead a life like Louise’s 
— writing all day except when she goes down to 
her meals — I’d be dead of boredom in ten days!” 
Emalene smiled inwardly at Tilly’s inference that 
Louise’s life, as she had seen it, was the only alter- 
native for women save such a life as her own. 

“But have you no desire to lead a different life?” 

“Yes, I have; but how can I? When a woman 
like Louise Anstey, who has always had what she 
wants because she never w r anted anything she 
couldn’t have, says plainly — when I come to her 
in such trouble as she can have no conception of, 
and ask her for the protection w T hich her respec- 
tability alone can give me — that she loathes me 
and will have none of me, is not willing to make a 
little personal sacrifice to help me, I ask how is 
a woman to be helped out of such a life as mine? 
Only women can help in such a case — men won’t 
even try. Or, if a man were generous enough to 
think of trying, he would hardly be brave enough 
to make the attempt, because he’d know no one 
would believe him honest in his effort. It’s no 
wonder that respectability, which makes people 


FEMININE FINANCE 


51 


so selfish and harsh, doesn’t strike some of us as 
very attractive and worth trying for.” 

The woman lay still, apparently quite recovered 
from her seizure. Louise sat as an onlooker in 
her own room, listening to the two women, so 
strangely contrasted, grateful to Emalene for 
throwing herself into the breach as she had done. 

“I’d be glad to do anything, to make any sacri- 
fice, to help you to a better life — and Miss Anstey, 
too,” she ventured, “if you signified your willing- 
ness to give up your present one. I wish you would 

give it up ! There are better ways ” 

“Oh, I couldn’t leave off now. I’m thirty-five 
years old! I couldn’t work in any ordinary way 
— I never did; what could I do?” 

“If you were really willing and anxious and re- 
solved, the way would be opened. It couldn’t be 
done without some effort on your part. You’d have 
to put up with some things that would not be pleas- 
ant. But if you were determined to do right, and 
did it, that of itself would be the compensation for 
the trials which would undoubtedly beset you. It 
wouldn’t be a rose-strewn path; but there are no 
rose-strewn paths that lead to anything worth 
while.” 

“I’ll bet I’d have good and plenty to endure — 
sniffs and snubs and scorns; and while I’m pretty 
near disgusted — quite in fact — with the game I’ve 
played thus far, I don’t see anything else for me 

but to keep on playing it ” 

“Deterred from seeking a better way by fear of 


52 


FEMININE FINANCE 


the sniffs and snubs and scorn you’d get for trying 
to be and do right?” interrupted Emalene, vehe- 
mently. “Just bear in mind that very few people 
live in this world that don’t get snubs and scorn 
from some quarter and for some reason, and that 
you get plenty leading the life you have led ” 

“Ah, they may be directed at me, but as long as 
I am not conscious of and made aware of them, 
as I should be if I tried to do differently, I don’t 
mind.” 

“I’d rather take them for doing right or trying 
to, than for doing wrong, if I had to get them any- 
way. And if I were doing right I’d not care if 
they pranced before me, day and night,” argued 
Emalene. 

“That’s all very well, but you’re good and have 
never ” 

“Don’t, don’t say it, please!” said Emalene, ve- 
hemently, and with a pained flush, taking the 
woman’s hand. “I wish I could do something for 
you. I’m poor, but if you would promise me to 
do right, to live as you ought, I’d help you. I’m 
sure the way would be opened. Have you any 
money?” 

“I’ve got a cousin up in Connecticut, near Sedg- 
wick, to whom I loaned a little bit of money — five 
hundred dollars. And I’ve been looking forward 
to going up to the country where the note is pay- 
able, to collect it. It’s due to-day, and I don’t 
know what to do about it. I was thinking of it 
in the closet, wondering what I could do about it 


FEMININE FINANCE 


53 


and if I would have to lose that five hundred dol- 
lars that I’d been thinking Fd take and go to Aus- 
tralia with — it’s just about enough to get me there. 
I believe I will take it if I can get it from Cousin 
Jim, and go out there. There’s a family there, the 
only one in the world that I could go to, that would 
take me in and help me along until I got some way 
of living. I’ve got no rings nor jewels — I’ve sold 
and pawned all I ever had, and I’ve been in hard 
luck of late. I was out of an engagement for 
months. I don’t know w T hat to do about that 
money. But I wish you wouldn’t ask me to go out 
of here. Please ask Louise to keep me,” she 
pleaded. 

“I’ll go up there and get the money for you — 
you have the note here?” 

“Yes, I have the note here. Will you go?” said 
she, eagerly. 

“You’d trust me to collect the money?” 

“Yes.” 

“If you’ll promise me that you’ll take the money 
and go to Australia, I’ll go and get it, a check, or 
whatever it’s payable in.” 

“It’s payable in cash — nothing else. Don’t take 
a check. If you leave on the ten-fifty train you 
can get back easily in the afternoon. I wrote my 
cousin I would go up to get the money to-day — I 
wrote him four days ago, and he’ll be expecting me. 
If he’s ever going to pay it he ought to be able to 
now — he’s had the money over a year. I’d have 
spent it if I hadn’t loaned it to him. I didn’t 


54 


FEMININE FINANCE 


charge him any interest — see?” producing the note 
from the pocket of her beautiful white silk petti- 
coat. 

“Why didn’t you go to this cousin, instead of 
flinging yourself on me? You said you had nowhere 
else to go, and now it turns out that you have a 
cousin ! One doesn’t know what to believe of what 
you say,” said Louise. 

“What I said about that is true,” said Tilly. “I 
couldn’t have gone to Cousin Jim, safely.” 

“I’ll go; I’ll take the 10:50,” said Emalene. 

“I thought you were to leave for your vacation,” 
said Louise. 

“I’ll telegraph at the station not to expect me 
until to-morrow.” 

“I will not be left alone with this — this, Ema- 
lene.” 

“Why, Louise?” 

“She might have another — spell, like that. It 
would terrify me ; I cannot be left alone with her !” 
she exclaimed. 

“Then suppose you go and get the money. I’ll 
stay with Miss Baxter. Will you go, Louise?” 

“How can I?” 

“You can : Now just make up your mind to do 
this favor for a woman less fortunate than your- 
self. I’m sure it will be a pleasure for you, not 
only to go out into the country, but to go on such 
an errand. How much pleasure you’ll get think- 
ing of how you saved that money for Miss Baxter, 
though,” turning to Tilly, “you wouldn’t really lose 


FEMININE FINANCE 


55 


it if it were not presented for payment to-day — 
the note — would you?” 

“I don’t know; I’m awfully ignorant about such 
things. But business is business, and I’d rather 
have the money right now than have Cousin Jim 
keep it any longer. I’ll take it and light out to 
Australia.” 

“Will you go, Louise? If you don’t, I will, un- 
less,” turning to the woman herself, “you will go. 
And why don’t you go? You could easily slip out 
of town, it seems to me, and stay there with your 
cousin and his family until you get ready to go 
to Australia. I’ll help you all I can. I’ll stay in 
town and buy your tickets and do your little shop- 
ping and your packing. I’ll do anything for you 
that I can, but I have no money to give. I’d give 
it if I had it, but if your cousin pays, there’ll be 
money enough.” 

Turning to Miss Anstey she said: “I can see 
that Miss Baxter doesn’t feel that it would be safe 
for her to leave here. Will you go? I didn’t wait 
for an answer when I asked before.” 

“The idea of my going up into Connecticut this 
blistering day in those hot cars!” 

Tilly had risen and was seated in the large chair. 

“Come, Louise,” said Emalene, “if you won’t 
go, I will ; and if whoever goes is to take the 10 :50 
train, there’ll have to be quick work.” 

“I don’t want to go, and I don’t want to be left 
alone again with ” 

“Come, come, Louise. I’ll go if you won’t. You 


56 


FEMININE FINANCE 


needn’t be afraid of another spell — you never had 
one before, did you?” again turning to Tilly. 

“No; I’m all right.” 

“And even if she did, what is there to be afraid 
of, Louise?” 

“I’ll take no such risk, Emalene. I was terrified. 
I shall never get over it.” 

“Oh, yes you will. Don’t cling to the idea of 
being frightened, Louise. Isn’t it our duty to help 
one another? I’m going to get that money and as- 
sist that much toward getting Miss Baxter off to 
Australia and a better life, unless you’ll go and 
leave me with her.” 

Louise saw that Emalene’s sympathies were 
roused, and that nothing would deter her from car- 
rying out her plan. So of the evils she chose what 
was to her the lesser, and said : 

“I’ll go. Please endorse the note, and write a 
letter introducing me to this cousin of yours as a 
fit person to receive the money, while I change my 
gown and get ready to start. And please write on 
a slip of paper full directions for reaching him after 
I shall have left the train.” 

Under Emalene’s direction, Tilly complied with 
Louise’s request. She endorsed the note as “Au- 
gusta Holliday”; and in a few moments Louise de- 
parted, leaving Emalene instructed to say, when 
she went down to her luncheon, that as Miss 
Anstey might return during the afternoon hungry, 
a luncheon was to be sent to her room at three 
o’clock. Tilly was thus assured one meal. 


CHAPTER V 


On the train Miss Anstey had time to reflect upon 
and marvel at life’s mutations. Twenty-four hours 
before she had been so engrossed with her work 
that a moment spent otherwise than upon it seemed 
a moment wasted. Now she w^as hastening aw r ay 
on an errand w^hich relegated her work to nothing- 
ness, to see a man of whose existence two hours 
before she had been unaware, and in the interest 
of one whom she knew but slightly and regretted 
knowing at all. She told herself that she would 
not have gone thus, but for the promise the journey 
held, of deliverance from the objectionable pres- 
ence that for twenty-four hours had tormented her ; 
that she w r as really doing it in order that she might 
go on with her w^ork after ridding herself of the 
woman’s presence. “I shall see her on my return,” 
thought she, “and give her the money. That will 
doubtless solve her problem ; and with five hundred 
dollars in her pocket, she will leave me, joyfully, 
to spend it in riotous living, forgetting her fears 
of police and detectives. With Emalene to help, 
little tow^er of strength and friend of publicans and 
sinners that she is, I’m sure it will come out all 
right. Possibly I wasn’t charitable enough. What 
67 


58 


FEMININE FINANCE 


is it the Scriptures say? ‘Though I speak with the 
tongues of men and of angels, and have not charity 
. . . though I give my body to be burned, and 

have not charity, it profiteth me nothing.’ I feel 
that I am giving my body to be burned, with some 
literalness, this morning; these cars are terribly 
hot! And yesterday! The heat in my room with 
the door closed, and that terrible creature snoring 
on my bed! Emalene would know better how to 
approach this ‘Cousin Jim,’ though as there’s noth- 
ing to be done but present this note and take the 
money, I’ll surely be able to do that. Anyway, it’s 
the least of the evils presented — I couldn’t and 
wouldn’t have remained in that room with her to- 
day. I wonder if this cousin of hers is a country 
gentleman — he couldn’t be a gentleman and borrow 
money from a woman— -and such a woman! Per- 
haps he doesn’t know the sort she is ; and if he does, 
he’s probably not proud of her. I mean to make it 
very clear to him that she’s no intimate of mine.” 

Miss Anstey was refined, highly educated, and 
very self-centered. Her cynicism was the more re- 
markable in that her experience was so limited. As 
a specialist in certain educational lines, she was 
agreeably busy and well remunerated. Being in 
receipt of a very considerable income from certain 
properties in her native Connecticut town, financial 
difficulties were eliminated from those she encoun- 
tered in her uneventful life. She had had but little 
to develop the affectional side of a nature primarily 
deficient in such qualities, and at the age of thirty- 


FEMININE FINANCE 


59 


five found herself with a very limited understanding 
of other’s perplexities, or charity for their failings. 

The death of her parents had for a time cast a 
gloom over her spirits; but not for long did this 
interfere with the placid course she pursued. As 
only child, she had never been obliged to share pos- 
sessions or pursuits with brothers or sisters; and 
having no kin nearer than cousins once removed — 
distributed in different and distant States, and 
scarcely known to her — the ties of blood meant less 
to her than to the average person. 

She had been sent away to school at a tender age, 
and entered college precociously early, beginning 
her chosen work in New York soon after being 
graduated therefrom, ten years prior to the event 
with which our first chapter has to do. She knew 
but few of the old friends of her family save by 
name, having visited her birthplace but rarely, and 
only when some matter of business connected with 
the administration of her property there demanded. 

She had a small and very select circle with whom 
she exchanged occasionally the more formal social 
amenities, and depended largely for companionship 
upon such contact with people as was necessitated 
by her work and the communal life in her board- 
ing-house. 

With her ample means she could well have es- 
tablished and maintained a home; but she was not 
sufficiently self-reliant to do so alone, as many 
single women, mature, and of refined tastes, have 
done in all large cities. And her dislike of inti- 


60 


FEMININE FINANCE 


mate association with people, save a chosen few, 
prohibited her joining a woman friend in such an 
enterprise. She would, under certain conditions, 
willingly have undertaken such an arrangement 
with Emalene Carruthers, but Emalene was too 
poor to live as Louise Anstey was, and had always 
been, accustomed to live. Besides the monetary 
one, there was the further obstacle in Emalene’s 
case, of that small person’s dear five hundred 
friends, of all sorts and conditions, young and old, 
rich and poor, black and white, whose probable in- 
vasions at all times and for any and all purposes, 
would leave Miss Anstey without the seclusion 
which would be her first consideration in leaving 
the delightful old house where she had lived com- 
fortably and uninterruptedly so long. Then came 
the question : Would Emalene be willing, with all 
other obstacles removed, to isolate herself with 
one friend while many other friends mourned the 
loss of her companionship? 

The friendship between the two women had been 
formed during Miss Anstey’s first year in New 
York, and in the Ninth Street boarding-house, 
where Emalene was temporarily domiciled one 
summer, waiting a prospective vacancy in a less 
expensive house uptown. 

At first Louise’s fastidiousness had recoiled at 
Emalene’s willingness to be friends with all alike. 
She had, indeed, never, during their friendship, 
ceased to chide and deride the sturdy little demo- 
crat for what, in its beginning, she had thought 


FEMININE FINANCE 


61 


Emalene’s inability, and had since come to know 
as her unwillingness, to pick and choose her friends. 

She had surrounded herself, so far as choice of 
rooms and appointments were concerned, elegantly. 
She had some beautiful mahogany, some rare rugs, 
beautiful and valuable paintings and engravings, 
and a little bric-a-brac, selected with a taste that 
utterly abhorred the superfluity of ornamental ( ? ) 
small things with which average persons surround 
themselves. 

Louise was called a pretty woman. Her fine 
gray eyes, abundant brown hair, perfect teeth and 
oval face, combined with a figure slight and grace- 
ful, were points in favor of beauty, to which an 
unerring taste in dress, which she indulged to a 
considerable extent, lent itself with good effect. 
Lacking no material thing, there was about her 
none of the divine unrest. Emalene Carruthers 
had long hoped for some happening that would work 
out for her friend a broader outlook on life and 
develop in her more sympathy with, and for, her 
fellow-creatures. In the advent of the chorus 
woman, she believed it had eventuated. 

Emalene Carruthers at thirty-five was singularly, 
girlishly pretty. Though small and slight, she was 
in perfect health. Her merry blue eyes, fine teeth 
and radiant smile alone would have given her a 
valid claim to beauty. She was admired and loved, 
not for what she had, not even for what she did, but 
for what she was. Her affluence of being brought 
her all but material prosperity — of friends a host. 


62 


FEMININE FINANCE 


of love full measure; not the love which means 
courtship and marriage and home and offspring, 
but that which inevitably comes to the self-forget- 
ting, faithful man or woman who fulfills the sec- 
ond commandment, and loves his neighbor as him- 
self. 

In some way Emalene always found time to in- 
form herself as to what was worth knowing of the 
day and the hour, and to cultivate her naturally 
fine tastes. However small the amount she spent 
upon herself, she w r as always becomingly and ap- 
propriately dressed, though never known to “talk 
duds” as average femininity is prone to. 

Emalene’ s friends and her disposition to bestow 
upon them what Louise was pleased to consider 
an undue proportion of her time, her means, her- 
self, were the only causes of dissension between the 
two women. These led to much criticism on the 
part of Louise, and once in a great while, resent- 
ment on the part of Emalene. Louise was fond of 
saying that her friend’s friends, like government 
employees, seldom died and never resigned; that 
as accessions to their ranks were always being 
made, they were too numerous for comfort. Most 
of Emalene’s time, over and above that spent in 
earning her modest stipend, was spent with or for 
her friends. She had a positive genius for friend- 
ship, affection, sympathy, the receiving and be- 
stowal of which so knit up the sleeve of time that 
none was left her in which to make such a con- 
centrated effort in a direct line, as might, with 


FEMININE FINANCE 


63 


her splendid natural abilities, have fitted her for 
the career which she had dreamed of in her youth. 
It may be doubted, however, if this unrealized 
career would have produced such happiness and 
good for herself and others, as that which, in her 
actual life, she radiated in such a large sense as 
to make her, with whomsoever she came in contact, 
a continual delight. 

Louise was wont to say that Emalene was a little 
boarding-house Wandering Jew. Not that she was 
unpopular with landladies. Wherever she went, 
those who had borne that relation to her followed 
her with their friendship, regretted her departure 
and would have welcomed her return. She was 
that rara avis, a boarder who believed, and said, 
that she received a fair equivalent for what she 
paid. Her frequent changes of habitation were in 
the nature of financial expediencies. It was cheap- 
er to move her few personal belongings to be taken 
care of by some friend who offered this service, 
during vacations, than to pay rent for her room 
when, as sometimes happened, they extended be- 
yond the customary two weeks. 

Miss Carruthers was the daughter of an up-State 
farmer, whose Scotch ancestry was betokened by a 
sternness that, to an unprejudiced mind, seemed 
hardly compatible with natural affection. At the 
death of their mother, when Emalene was but fif- 
teen, and Lucy, his only other child, thirteen years 
of age, he had taken his daughters out of school to 
do the housekeeping and poultry-raising of a con- 


64 


FEMININE FINANCE 


siderable farm. Two years later he brought home 
a second wife, to make life with her unbearable to 
even such gentle children as his. Seeing no other 
alternative, and meeting no opposition from her 
father or step-mother, Emalene departed with Lucy 
for New York, where she hoped to earn her liveli- 
hood in some more congenial, if less certain, way. 
Untrained in any of the means to that end, she could 
not foresee what the way would be. The sisters 
spent their initiatory term of life in the city, as 
so many wage-earning women have done, in a 
“Home” for such as they, where for a modest sum 
they could at least be sure of respectable, if not 
especially attractive surroundings. 

She sought for weeks, wearily, and with a name- 
less terror, a place where she could have her sister 
work beside her; and finally found a berth where 
their duty was clerical, simple, and came in time 
to be almost mechanical. Emalene undertook it 
as the beginning of what was to be a great career. 
Free, what might she not become? Surely, with 
money for her bread and other simple needs, and 
the nights in which to read, to study, to improve — 
surely the way would be opened, and she would be 
leaving the desk where that blessed first dollar had 
been earned, to go high and then higher, in some 
congenial path. 

During the days she had gone about the streets 
seeking employment, she had said that if God would 
only give her the opportunity to earn food and 
shelter for herself and Lucy, and make separation 


FEMININE FINANCE 65 

from her sister unnecessary, she would be undying- 
ly grateful and ask no further boon. 

But the joy, the uplift of her first week’s salary — 
the first money that had ever really been her own, 
so emancipated her, put so far behind her the re- 
membrance of her father’s austerities, and the dread 
of a possible return to them, that her aspirations 
soared until there was left scarcely one pinnacle of 
earthly fame or fortune unvisited by them. 

Alas for the dreams of youth ! Miss Carruthers, 
at thirty-five, was going daily to the same office, to 
do the same work, in the same room, almost at the 
same desk, where, that memorable morning eighteen 
years before — her first as a wage-earner — she had 
seated herself. 

Lucy had worked. beside her until married; and 
Lucy had now been dead a number of years. 

Lucy’s marriage had not been a particularly 
happy or successful one; yet she had felt free to 
taunt Emalene — after the manner of women whose 
idea seems to be that any marriage is better than 
none — with her maiden state and unprogressive- 
ness, in remaining so long in the office treadmill. 


CHAPTER VI 


From Sedgwick Miss Anstey rode in a trolley- 
car, and alighted therefrom at the junction of its 
track with the road whereon, according to Tilly’s 
directions, the farm abutted. This road was glar- 
ingly white, hot and dusty, and she walked it none 
too cheerfully, but finally reached a small, rather 
well-built house. The entrance to its door-yard 
from the road was a wide, pretentious gate, hung 
between two high, square, wooden posts. As Tilly 
had mentioned this gate, and the posts especially, 
the warm, tired woman knew on beholding them 
that she had reached her destination. She entered 
the gate and reached a little porch on the side of 
the house by way of a slightly curving and grass- 
grown driveway of large clean pebbles. The front 
door, as is often the case in New England farm- 
houses, had fallen into desuetude, and was covered 
with a vine of vigorous growth. 

The visitor knocked at the door which led into 
the house from the porch, and seated herself in a 
wooden chair that stood there, not unwilling to 
have a moment in which to compose herself before 
meeting the farmer. Chickens clucked, strutted 
and ran about the yard. A cow peacefully chewed 
66 


FEMININE FINANCE 


67 


the cud on the other side of the fence which sep- 
arated a bit of pasture from the house-yard. No 
human being was in sight. Down toward the small, 
paintless, and ill-kept barn, stood a kennel, the 
opening to which, being turned toward the barn 
and away from her, she feared might house a fierce 
dog. Receiving no answer to her first nor her sec- 
ond knock, she was about to bestow a third one, 
when around the corner of the house from the di- 
rection of the kitchen, appeared what Miss Anstey 
mentally designated a “sort of man.” He was ap- 
parently over fifty years of age, fat and blond, 
and bore about him the unmistakable signs of the 
long and habitual, though possibly not excessive, 
use of strong drink. Evidently he had not been 
long awake, and came along the path toward his 
visitor in his stockinged feet. He was without 
coat, waistcoat, suspenders or collar; a blue cot- 
ton shirt, and a pair of outgrown or shrunken dark- 
blue trousers, originally fine but now soiled and 
shabby, completed his attire. Seeing that his 
caller was a lady, he came forward with an inquir- 
ing look, in nowise abashed by the scantiness of 
his toilet. Altogether his appearance was most 
offensive to Miss Anstey, not because of what more 
experienced eyes than hers would instantly have 
recognized as the scars of a life too much given to 
things liquid, nor yet the paucity of his garments. 
Such as these were, they clothed him, and thus 
performed their primal office; but somewhere in or 
about Cousin Jim there lurked a jauntiness that 


68 


FEMININE FINANCE 


age could not wither, nor fat nor even inertia ob- 
literate. He was anomalous, neither farmer, work- 
ingman, gentleman nor tramp, and this jauntiness 
accentuated a thousand-fold the dislike which Miss 
Anstey conceived for him at sight. 

“I am looking for Mr. James Holliday,” said she, 
rising. ‘Is not this where he lives?” 

“Yes,” said he; “that’s my name.” 

“I came, Mr Holliday, with a letter of introduc- 
tion from your cousin, which will explain my er- 
rand,” said she, handing him the envelope, ad- 
dressed in Tilly’s large, legible handwriting, and 
recalling her own mental picture of Cousin Jim as 
a country gentleman, possibly ashamed of his 
Cousin Tilly. 

He took the letter and begged her to resume her 
seat. Before opening it he looked at her searching- 
ly, and asked: “Which cousin o’ mine is it you 
know?” Butisooner than she could reply he opened 
the envelope and answered his own question by 
saying : 

“Oh, I see, it’s Gussie. So you know Gussie, do 
you?” with a look at which Miss Anstey bridled 
emphatically and at once, saying: 

“I used to know her slightly when we were at 
school together in our early teens; since then I have 
not known nor even seen her but once, until she 
came to me yesterday morning in distress.” 

She had thought the word “distress” would 
awaken him to the importance of her errand; but 


FEMININE FINANCE 69 

not so. While she was speaking he seated himself 
on the step. Looking up at her he said : 

“Well, well, an’ so Gussie, or Tilly, as she calls 
herself now ” 

“Please read the note,” she interrupted with some 
sharpness. 

He complied, and as he did so she attempted to 
read his probable intentions toward her mission. 
This, however, she could not do. The placid face, 
with its shapely but insignificant features, was un- 
informing as to his ability to pay the money, or his 
attitude toward the transaction she was there to 
conclude. 

“Mr. Holliday,” said she, “your cousin being un- 
able to come herself, sent me to deliver your note 
and fetch her the money. You know it’s payable 
to-day. Are you prepared with the money to pay 
it?” 

“It’s a pretty hot day, ain’t it? I went out a 
while ago — I’m all alone here now, my hired man 
went off two days ago an’ ain’t been back since; 
but I says to myself, let ’im go, he’s no account any- 
way. Every time they was any real work to do, 
he got a cramp in his toe, or a toothache, or some- 
thin’ else, an’ I says ” 

“I have the note here, properly endorsed, as your 
cousin’s letter tells you. I have come because she 
couldn’t — as a favor to her. So if you will be kind 
enough to hand me the money, I’ll go back to New 
York on the 2 :45.” She spoke with a shade of an- 
noyance; but ignoring what she said, he exclaimed: 


70 


FEMININE FINANCE 


“Just look at that dog,” as a half-grown mongrel 
pup, loose of leg and long of tail, came leaping with 
wide-mouthed delight across the tall grass toward 
him; “ain’t he a fine one? — no particular breed, but 
just as kind an’ affectionate! I never see a dog 
more ” 

“Please, Mr. Holliday, tell me if you are pre- 
pared to meet this note.” As he made no reply, 
but sat fondling the pup, which licked his face and 
wriggled and wagged joyously in his arms, she con- 
tinued, with impatience: 

“I must know at once whether or not you are 
going to pay the money.” 

“I got the money here, right now, in my breeches 
pocket; but I ain’t goin’ to give it to you! If 
Gussie Holliday wanted it why didn’t she come 
here an’ get it? She wrote me she was cornin’ an’ 
I think it’s pretty queer she didn’t come.” 

“Do you doubt my being a proper person to re- 
ceive the money?” 

“I don’t like to appear ungentlemanly ; but I 
never see you before. You come here with nothin’ 
but a note o’ introduction that might ’a’ been writ 
by anybody.” 

“Stop!” said she, sternly. “I am here because 
your cousin is unable to come. You certainly know 
her handwriting, don’t you?” 

“What’s the matter with her now? I never see 
such a girl, alwus somethin’ goin’ on with her — 
if it ain’t one thing it’s another.” 

“She wants her money — she needs it. I have come 


FEMININE FINANCE 


71 


here to get it as a favor to her. I want it now! 
Don’t keep me waiting! You know I’m no thief! 
If you have any doubt of my identity, go to the vil- 
lage with me and telephone my bankers in New 
York and learn whether or not I’d be likely to do 
anything dishonest. Or you can telephone my 
native town, Ansteyville, named for my great grand- 
father, or you can call up my house address in 
New York and learn ” 

“Oh, that’s all right. I ain’t said you ever done 
anythin’ crooked. But Gussie ain’t much of a 
business woman. You see I’m her cousin, an’ Gus 
an’ me’s been pretty good friends, an’ I’d hate like 
smoke to do anythin’ that ’u’d cause her trouble. 
I’d better keep the money an’ give it to her next 
time I see her, or I could go to New York now an’ 
give it to her. I say the money’s better in the 
family than out of it, as long as Gus ain’t here to 
take it herself.” 

What if he should decide to go to New York 
with her! She feared to encourage him in any 
such idea. 

“Come to the village with me and let me prove 
to you that I’m a proper person to receive the 
money and convey it to your cousin. It is im- 
portant that she should receive the money at the 
earliest moment possible.” Delay in receiving it 
meant possible delay in getting rid of her visitor. 

“I hate to doubt your word — I hope I’m too much 
of a gentleman to do that without pain, but Gussie’s 
had a good many sorts o’ people hangin’ round her 


72 


FEMININE FINANCE 


for a good many years. It was that way she’s lost 
everything — all the money her parents left her, an’ 
a lot besides, instead o’ lettin’ me take it an’ invest 
it for her. I’ve often told her, ‘Gus,’ says I, ‘Gus, 
I’m your cousin, an’ got the family interest at 
heart.’ ” 

“Mr. Holliday, don’t waste my time. Pay me 
the money now or I shall go right to the village and 
take the train to New York.” 

“All right; I ain’t keepin’ you.” 

“Come to the village with me,” said she again, 
quite forgetting in her desire to justify herself, 
Cousin Jim’s undesirability sartorially and other- 
wise, “and I’ll prove to you that I’m responsible.” 

“Oh, I ain’t dressed to go with a lady,” replied 
he, and she wondered if he imagined himself dressed 
to go at all. 

“Excuse me a few minutes,” said he, after a 
moment’s thought, and disappeared around the 
corner of the house from whence he had presented 
himself, having evidently a preference for the back 
door. She assumed that he had decided to accom- 
pany her to the village, and had disappeared to 
make a toilet. Her fastidiousness suffered anew 
at the thought of being accompanied anywhere by 
a gentleman of Cousin Jim’s quality, and a cousin 
of Tilly Baxter, however correctly dressed, now 
that it seemed actually to impend. After some 
time he reappeared, having added to his attire a 
pair of low-cut tan shoes, misshapen and scuffed 
from long and hard wear, and entirely guiltless of 


FEMININE FINANCE 


73 


strings or fastenings of any sort. On his head was 
a case of arrested development in hats, a straw 
sailor, white and new, with a blue and white striped 
band about it. He walked quickly toward the gate, 
as though in great haste to reach it, paying no heed 
to the lady who sat on the porch, unable to account 
for the rapidity of his movements. She started 
to follow him, calling: 

“Are you going to the village, or to New York, 
Mr. Holliday?” 

“I’m going down t’ th’ gate. I ain’t goin’ t’ 
New York. Th’ money is payable right here, an’ 
I ain’t goin’ t’ pay it anywheres else, nor t’ any- 
body else but my cousin Gussie, who wrote me she’d 
come here an’ git it,” he shouted at her over his 
shoulder, still hurrying toward the road. Miss 
Anstey fancied she saw in his extraordinary be- 
havior an effort to confuse, possibly to frighten, 
and thus rid himself of her. 

As her pace toward the gate was not set by his, 
before she reached it, he had climbed the fence, 
and by struggling and pulling, succeeded in hoist- 
ing his soft bulk to the top — all too narrow — of 
one of the high posts which stood at the roadway 
as sentinels to his premises. Here, perched with 
his back to the road, he began gazing anxiously 
up and down it. As, in her slower progress down 
the path, she approached, she asked him : 

“Are you expecting any one?” 

“Yes; I’m expectin’ my Cousin Gussie — I’m ex- 
pectin’ her to come up that road any minute t’ git 


u 


FEMININE FINANCE 


her money an’ give you away as a person who hasn’t 
got any right to that note. I ain’t seen the note 
anyway. I don’t know whether you got it or not; 
an’ if you have, she’s probably lost it an’ you picked 
it up an’ hiked yourself up here t’ get it cashed 
quick. I ain’t sayin’ I didn’t give Gussie a note 
an’ that I don’t owe the money. But you can’t 
make me believe the signature o’ that letter you 
give me — I got it here in my pocket — that you say 
my Cousin Gussie wrote, is the same as Gussie put 
on other notes I got back from her an’ got about 
the house yet — old ones ; an’ I been in there lookin’ 
at her signature, an’ you can’t fool me! I been 
’round the world a good deal an’ I seen many a 
person that looked slick an’ talked fine, an’ wasn’t 
above makin’ five hundred dollars ” 

“You’re insulting!” cried Miss Anstey. “I’ve 
told you before that I am here to do your cousin a 
kindness. Why should you abuse and insult me? 
I never was so outraged! Come down from that 
post and show me the old notes and we’ll compare 
the signatures. You’ll find that the endorsement 
on the note is all right; Miss Holliday may have 
written the signature to her letter carelessly, as 
it was all done — writing the letter and endorsing 
the note — in a few minutes while I prepared myself 
to come up here in her stead, not two hours since. 
You certainly ought to recognize her handwriting 
in the letter even though the signature might not 
be exactly like that on the old notes.” 

“Is Gussie sick abed?” 


FEMININE FINANCE 


75 


“She was not well this morning — in fact she had 
a bad turn — and that is why I am here, sacrificing 
my own pleasure, even my duty. Had I dreamed 
you would serve me as you are doing, I shouldn’t 
have come, and had she imagined that you would 
repudiate her letter of identification, she would 
never have sent me.” 

“Gussie’s generally well — why, that girl’s never 
been sick a minute in her life — she was alwus just 
as hearty ” 

“But ” she interrupted, in spite of which he 

continued : 

“An’ I think it’s mighty strange she should 
be took sick on a day when they’ve five hundred 
cornin’ t’ her, an’ some woman that nobody ever 
heard of before comes t’ claim th’ money an’ insists 
on havin’ it quick, so’s she can take th’ first train 
back t’ New York. I’m agoin’ to set on this post 
awhile an’ I’m pretty sure I’ll see Gussie acomin’ 
for her own money.” 

While he thus delivered himself, Miss Anstey 
stood, parasol raised, looking up at him. She grew 
warmer and warmer, more and more perplexed and 
surprised at the relation in which she found her- 
self to this woman and her affairs, and irritated 
thereat. More and more determined was she to 
get the money or avenge herself in some way upon 
the wretched fellow on the post above her. There 
was no way but to cajole him to return to terra 
firma, where she could show him the endorsement 
on the paper which Tilly had given her, although 


76 


1 FEMININE FINANCE 


she had a half-defined fear that, alone with him 
as she was, he might seize and destroy it. However, 
in spite of her fear and unfamiliarity with cajoling 
methods, she said : 

“Please come down and show me the endorse- 
ments on the old notes. I’m sure you’ll be satis- 
fied when I show you the one on the note I have. 
If you’ll compare the signature of the letter I 
brought, with the endorsement of this one, you’re 
sure to find they correspond sufficiently to prove 
their genuineness.” 

“That may be so; but how am I to know but 
what my Cousin Gussie’s bein’ held an’ was made 
to endorse that note an’ write this letter? Pretty 
good lookers, just as good ones as you’s, been known 
to do such things, an’ ” 

“You’re too brutal !” she cried. “I command you 
to come down here and let me prove to you that 
I’m no thief ! Whether I get the money now is not 
so important as that I shall prove to you that you 
cannot accuse me as you have done without having 
to acknowledge your mistake. Come down in- 
stantly !” 

He made no movement to obey, and she asked : 

“Have you a telephone?” 

“No. What’d I want a telephone for?” 

“Is there no one here but yourself? No ser- 
vants?” 

“No. I told you my hired man’s left. I’m keep- 
in’ bach.” 

“Do you intend to come down here as I have 


FEMININE FINANCE 77 

commanded you, and let me show you this signa- 
ture and compare it with those you have?” 

“No. I’m goin’ to stay right where I am till 
you go where you belong, or my Cousin Gussie 
comes up the road. She’ll be along directly — you 
needn’t fret. She knows where to git her money.” 

“She will not come! I shouldn’t be here if she 
were able to.” 

“I tell you, Mrs. Ainslie, I ain’t goin’ to give up. 
I wasn’t born yesterday.” 

“Do you still persist in thinking that I’m a dis- 
honest person, trying to take advantage of your 
cousin or of you?” 

“Well, that’s puttin’ it plain.” 

“No plainer than you have stated that you think 
I’m a villain. I want you to come down here, now !” 
This was said with much emphasis and with a little 
threatening gesture. 

“I don’t care what you want. I ain’t under ob- 
ligations to do what you want.” 

“Then you refuse to give me the opportunity to 
prove to you that I am not what you have inti- 
mated?” 

“I stay right where I am till you go, if it’s mid- 
night. I’ll not budge.” 

“Yes, you will. You’ll have to come down. I’ll 
make you! You have insulted me as no one has 
ever done, and I’ll teach you to be more careful 
in future how you treat women.” 

“What’ll you do?” he laughed. 

iRage took possession of her. She wondered at 


78 


FEMININE FINANCE 


her folly in making a threat she saw no means of 
carrying out. For a moment she stood in helpless 
fury; then she looked up and down the road as if 
in expectation that deliverance* in some form would 
approach that way. She assured herself that no 
perfectly helpless and innocent woman was ever 
so put upon, ever forced into so extraordinary a 
position, as that in which she found herself. 

While she was thus employed, the man indulged 
in a prolonged and unctuous chuckle. This roused 
her to say : 

“Do you dare insult and then deride me?” Her 
self-love was being rudely handled these two days ; 
and it afflicted her sorely that this miserable, un- 
educated man, uncouth and unkempt, should be 
able to take advantage of her in this maddening 
way. She upbraided herself for coming on this 
fool’s errand. She blamed Emalene for allowing 
her to come. She inwardly raged at her self-invited 
guest, who, she promised herself, should be turned 
into the street, at whatever cost, if Providence 
should permit her to reach her home again. Her 
mind thus engaged, she stood looking down at 
the toe of her pretty russet shoe. Presently the fat 
voice of Cousin Jim smote her ear, saying : 

“What you goin’ to do about it, Mrs. Ainslie?” 
This angered her to desperation. Whirling about, 
she snatched off her pretty Eton jacket and tossed 
it, w r ith her parasol, on the grass near the drive. 
Catching up a handful of pebbles, she began pelt- 
ing the man above her on the post. Her target was 


FEMININE FINANCE 


79 


of a size to be hit somewhere even by a marksman 
with a strabismus glance, and she had no such 
infirmity. Every fling told. At first the missiles 
were thrown with but little force. She thought it 
unnecessary thus to do more than demonstrate her 
determination. But this half-hearted punishment 
only excited levity in the wily one perched aloft. 
His roars of laughter, his unctuous chuckles, en- 
raged her the more ; and helping herself to a hand- 
ful of pebbles larger in size, she threw them with 
much greater energy. 

“Stop, I tell you!” he now cried. “That one 
stang me on the cheek! Lord! that one stang me 
on the neck! Quit, I tell you! You’re a terrible 
woman! I never see such a desperate ” 

“Will you come down and apologize for insult- 
ing me, and show me those notes?” she asked, de- 
sisting. 

“Come, now. I never insulted you! I ain’t 
goin’ to give up five hundred to no strange woman. 
You must take me for a putty-head!” 

While he spoke she was gathering a few of the 
very largest of the stones of the driveway, which, 
considered as projectiles, were of a goodly size. 
Accessions of strength coming with accessions of 
rage, she hurled them at him with a force which 
changed his peals of laughter to howls of pain. 

Up the road a man was approaching on foot. 
He carried a portfolio, and was, presumably, a book 
or picture agent. She hoped he might be her de- 
liverer. But the nearer he came, the less wise it 


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FEMININE FINANCE 


seemed to bring a third party into the imbroglio. 
Encouraged by Cousin Jim’s evidences of discom- 
fort, she hoped he had begun to understand some- 
what of her determination, and might surrender 
without forcing her to such a measure as the dis- 
closure of details to a traveler on the highway. At 
the same time she deemed it prudent to say in a 
low tone, as the stranger advanced: 

“Come down, or I’ll ask this man approaching to 
help me get you down and take you before a notary 
in the village, and prove how wrong and wicked 
you are. It isn’t so important now that I get the 
money, as that I should prove to you that I am not 
a dishonest woman — that you cannot insult me 
without being made to repent for having done so.” 

The pedestrian by this time was very near, and 
the woman and man so strangely arrayed against 
each other kept silent. As the stranger passed, he 
evinced — apparently without meaning to — some 
amusement if not edification, at the spectacle of a 
fat and elderly man perched on a gate-post like a 
boy of six. In Cousin Jim’s writhings, squirmings 
and dodgings, his hat had fallen to the ground, as 
had also his unfastened shoes. The latter left ex- 
posed to view several large holes in the soles of 
his hose, through which his pink flesh grinned at 
those below him. As the man disappeared from 
within hearing distance, she again said : 

“We are losing time. You’re not afraid to come 
down, are you? I won’t hurt you if you’ll give me 
a chance to right myself with you.” 


FEMININE FINANCE 


81 


“Hurt me!” he roared, laughing. “Hurt me! 
Well,” he chuckled, “I’m afraid you might. I’ll 
stay where I am.” 

Over the brow of the hill toward the village there 
now appeared a black speck in the roadway, which 
soon proved to be a horse and wagon. The driver 
was apparently in great haste. He was urging 
his beast to its utmost speed, and soon passed the 
gate. As the wagon approached, Cousin Jim — 
whose gyrations had resulted in his partly facing 
toward the road — readjusted his position, so as to 
present his broad back squarely to the view of the 
passing stranger. Miss Anstey, by this time flushed 
with the sense of victory nigh, allowed this second 
opportunity for help to pass, and walked toward 
the house slowly, and with assumed unconcern, as 
the vehicle rattled noisily by. She waited until 
the rapidly moving trap became a black spot in the 
distance and near the vanishing point, and again 
approacher her tormentor on the post. She was 
about to supply herself with more, and if possible, 
larger missiles, when her eye was attracted by 
something lying in the roadway ; she had not noticed 
it before, and assumed that it had been lost from 
the wagon which had just passed. This something 
was a lasso, such as farmers and cattlemen use for 
bringing refractory beasts to terms — a rope, long, 
light, tough, and with a slip-noose at one end. See- 
ing it, she said quietly : 

“You may as well come down voluntarily. You 
will have to come down now” 


82 FEMININE FINANCE 

1 1 

“I will, hey? I can stand this as long as you 
can. What makes you think TO have to come 
down? Don’t you think I’m hardened to 
them dornicks you been aheavin’ at me? You can’t 
scare me that way ! Why don’t you get a hand-saw 
and saw me down?” he chuckled. “I’d like to see 
you sawin’ away — I’d be willin’ to take the fall for 
the sake of the fun. Sawin’s such nice cool w T ork, 
’specially here on the road this time o’ day, this 
time o’ year. I ain’t had so much fun — w r ell, since 
I was a kid an’ was first took to the circus. They’s 
a saw in the barn if you can find it. Run an’ get 
it quick ” ^ 

“I’m glad you find this sort of thing amusing,” 
said she coldly, with a gleam in her eye, and a sigh 
of relief as she stepped into the roadway and picked 
up the rope. As she approached the gate, looping 
the rope about her firm, strong hand, she began to 
whirl the noose with a skill that surprised and 
somewhat alarmed the post-sitter, and wrung from 
him : 

“Lordamighty ! I never see such a woman! I 
believe to my soul she’s agoin’ to hang me!” 

“Come down and I won’t use it. I don’t want 
to hurt you. All I want is to prove that I am 
what I am — a proper person. I’ve learned some 
things by spending summers on a farm, and how 
to use a lasso is one of them, though I assure you 
I never thought to use one on a man, especially one 
that I never harmed, and to whom I wished to do 
a kindness.” 


FEMININE FINANCE 


83 


“Oh, give us a rest about doin’ so much kindness. 
If you was so kind as you’re makin’ out, you 
wouldn’t talk so much about it. I’d hate to be your 
husband. I bet you beat him every day.” 

Miss Anstey smiled. The picture of herself 
wedded to such a creature as the man before her 
was certainly entertaining, and she replied : “Don’t 
waste time in such speculation. If I had a husband 
and he needed beating as badly as you do, he’d 
probably not go without it, whether I gave it to 
him or not.” 

“You’d better get a saw! It’ll take time to 
saw through such a post as this; but I ain’t no 
manner o’ doubt that you can do it — you can do 
’most anythin’, I bet. After seeing you shoot with 
your fists as you been doin’ at me, a’ dancin’ an’ 
prancin’ ’round here, I ain’t goin’ to be surprised 
at any sort o’ circus or vaudeville exhibition you 
treat me to. I got a good seat, first row, balcony, 
with nothin’ to obstruct the view. I’d like to see 
you practisin’ the carpenter’s trade a while now — 
git the saw and give us a turn.” 

As she had stepped into the roadway to pick up 
the rope, and had not re-entered the gate, he had 
turned himself to face that way. Without so much 
as a hat to protect his shiny pate from the rays of 
the sun, which were now at their fiercest, he began 
to show their effect. 

She began to swing the noose, and immediately 
cast it. It fell about him and she was about to 
draw it ; but not being expert in the use of the rope, 


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FEMININE FINANCE 


she was not quick enough to prevent his jerking 
it wide of his body, which he did with marvellous 
dexterity, so that it fell to the ground, encircling 
the post on which he sat. His efforts to avert 
its tightening about and dethroning him so en- 
grossed him that he stupidly let it slip from his 
grasp, and with it, of course, the advantage which 
its retention would have given him. As he recov- 
ered his equilibrium he shouted: 

“See here, Mrs. Ainslie! This ain’t fair! It’s 
pretty hard; pretty hard, I tell you!” The deter- 
mination of his antagonist seemed by this time to 
have impressed him. “The very idea of you cornin’ 
up here to bulldoze me into givin’ you five hundred 
dollars, an’ then tryin’ to jerk me off my own gate- 
post after I’m all stang up with the dornicks you’ve 
throwed at me ! I can stand them, but by the great 
horn spoon, I ain’t goin’ to stand for this here rope 
business. You go home an’ let me be! You’re a 
terrible woman ! I ain’t no use for you !” 

While he spoke she swung the loop and this time 
he was caught amidships. She had pulled the rope 
and would have had him, but he had caught it 
with his right hand and held it so firmly that the 
loop was kept too loose to effect his dislodgment. 
His left hand was engaged in a firm grasp of the 
moulding about the top of the post, to assist him 
in retaining his seat thereon. He further strength- 
ened his position by winding his fat legs about the 
post, clinging thereto with his holey hosiery. Aware 
that if he loosened, but for a moment, the grasp 


FEMININE FINANCE 


85 


of either hand to help the other, it would mean his 
downfall, his alert enemy stood, pulling hard on 
the rope with both hands, certain that his flabby 
muscles must soon tire, and give her the oppor- 
tunity to assist him earthward. 

“I’ve got you fairly, and you may as well come 
down and save me further trouble and yourself 
the discomfort and humiliation of being pulled 
bodily to the ground,” said she. 

“I won’t But if ever I do get on earth again, I’ll 
make you sorry you pelted me and lassoed me! I 
never see such a determined ” 

“Then give me that money! You say you have 
it! Your cousin needs it. She’s going away and 
needs it for traveling expenses.” 

“You’re a great collector, ain’t you? Tilly told 
me she’d never leave New York again. Says she, the 
very last time I see her, says she: ‘Broadway for 
mine! I been round a good deal an’ I ain’t seen 
any place that suits me as well as Broadway yet.’ 
An’ she meant it. I wonder if you even know her ! 
You’re a wicked-hearted woman. Go home! I’ll 
set on my gate-post as long as I want to.” 

As Louise had expected, his hand and. arm, held 
rigidly in one position, and grasping the rope firm- 
ly, was by this time very tired with the effort to 
hold the loop away from his right side. The added 
strain on legs and back which holding his position 
involved, had almost exhausted him. As he spoke, 
having become a bit skeptical of her intention 
actually to dislodge him, he relaxed his hold a trifle, 


86 


FEMININE FINANCE 


shifting his position slightly. At the psycho- 
logical moment, she gathered her energies and gave 
a stronger pull, which, while it nearly sent her 
backward to the ground, brought Cousin Jim off 
his pedestal. 

He gave a loud ejaculation of “Lordamighty !” 
that was almost a shriek, as his dead weight hit 
the grass on the roadside outside his domain, his 
captor having stood in the roadway to cast the 
noose. He quickly raised himself, and in furious 
anger made little stumbling runs toward the woman 
at the other end of the rope, who, after a moment’s 
breathless surprise and joy born of her victory, 
ran sufficiently fast to keep its length taut between 
them. Thus they proceeded a little way down the 
road, he bareheaded, all but barefooted, and whim- 
pering: “Oh, Lordamighty, this woman’ll kill me! 
If I git a holt o’ you, I’ll take you to the constable ! 
When a woman’s as terrible as what you are, what’s 
a man to do?” 

She jerked him along. By this time she could 
not have told whither she would have led him — what 
were her intentions; but, beside herself with anger, 
rage, and a sort of exaltation of glee, she enjoyed 
her triumph for a brief, a very brief, season. He 
stopped and sputtered, scolded and vociferated, un- 
able, by his spasmodic runs, to loosen the tension 
of the rope. He was so intent upon the verbal tor- 
rent he poured out upon her, that she found no 
difficulty in keeping away from him. His cap- 
tivity lasted but for a moment, though to captor 


FEMININE FINANCE 


87 


and captive alike it seemed much longer. The ex- 
citement, heat and fatigue were beginning to affect 
her, when, regaining the use of his faculties, of 
which his rage, amazement, and the physical shock 
of his fall seemed to have deprived him temporarily, 
he whipped a clasp knife out of his pocket, and with 
one slash at the rope, freed himself, and at the 
same time sent his fair antagonist, totally unpre- 
pared for this sudden dexterity on his part, ig- 
nominiously to the earth on her back, in the middle 
of the dusty highway. 

For one instant she lay, wide-eyed with surprise 
and shock, looking up at the cloudless summer 
sky. Then she sat up, straightened her hat, and 
beheld her erstwhile captive in a waddling run 
down the road toward the tall posts. She got upon 
her feet, shook some of the dust from her skirts, 
and walked rapidly toward the gate, which, as she 
approached it, was shut with a great rattle. Her 
sunshade, gloves and coat immediately thereafter 
were thrown over the fence into the road, Cousin 
Jim’s voice shouting excitedly: 

“Begone, you terrible woman! You’ve nearly 
killed me! You’re the worst ever! I’ll go to the 
village an’ have the constable take you to jail.” 

The conflict with the farmer had so entirely 
obliterated her every other thought that it had not 
occurred to her that Cousin Jim might have grounds 
for turning her over to the officers of the law. She 
now picked up her belongings and hastened toward 
the village, so absorbed by fear and the desire to 


88 


FEMININE FINANCE 


place as much distance as possible between herself 
and the angry farmer, that she walked across and 
far beyond the trolley-track. She rested at a farm 
house, and after a cooling drink hired the farmer 
to “hook up” and drive her to the station beyond 
Sedgwick. 


CHAPTER V II 


Miss Anstey’s guests readily adapted themselves 
to each other. Emalene, always interested in and 
sympathetic with whatever sort of humanity chance 
threw in her way, immediately won the confidence 
of this erratic woman, who, to Louise, had been 
so childishly unreasonable. Tilly related in de- 
tail, as Louise had had no opportunity to do, the 
circumstances leading up to the situation in which 
the feminine trio were for the time being placed. 

In some indefinable way the big, physically pow- 
erful woman appealed strongly to the small one. 
At the outset Emalene was imbued with the idea 
that the woman’s relations with the victim of the 
tragedy warranted some manifestation of grief and 
loss on her part, and wondered at the entire absence 
of it. Indeed, Emalene was inclined to be dis- 
pleased at this lack. But by a word here and there, 
dropped by Tilly in entire unconsciousness that 
the small gentlewoman whispering beside her was 
putting them together to that end, Emalene’s mind 
was set at rest on that score. 

Casting about for the opportunity to do some- 
thing for Tilly, impelled thereto by her ever-present 
spirit of helpfulness, she said : “I notice your hair 

89 


90 FEMININE FINANCE 

hasn’t been combed; would you like me to do it 
for you?” 

“Why, yes, I would. You’re very kind.” 

“Have you a comb and brush here? These ivory 
things at the right I know are Miss Anstey’s. Are 
these at the left yours?” 

“I have nothing here except the clothes I came 
in. But Louise said the ones at the left were for 
me; and if it is right for me to take the left, then 
it is left for her to take the right,” said she, at- 
tempting to joke, as her spirits rose under Ema- 
lene’s geniality. The latter made some cordial 
response to her pleasantry, and putting a clean 
towel about the woman’s neck, was soon busily 
fussing w r ith the straw-colored hair which was be- 
ginning to need a little more yellow at the roots. 
Not being an adept at hair-dressing, she made no 
attempt to arrange the locks, but wound them neat- 
ly about the woman’s head in a comfortable, but 
not very shapely knot. 

Her kindly naturalness in performing this ser- 
vice for her less fortunate sister, toward whom she 
felt a pity that found expression in a desire to 
serve her as one does the physically weak, touched 
Tilly as probably nothing else could have done, 
and strengthened in her the affectionate regard al- 
ready born of the willingness to go to Cousin Jim’s. 

After the hair-dressing, Tilly, her “Marcel” con- 
siderably straightened by the vigor with which the 
small hands had plied the comb and brush, sat, 
comically licked down as to hair, which imparted 


FEMININE FINANCE 


91 


more of the same aspect to her countenance than 
her somewhat gentler mood would have done un- 
aided. Emalene introduced the topic of the pro- 
posed journey to Australia and talked so enthu- 
siastically about what she had heard and read of 
the country, that her companion, out of a full heart 
said : “If I get that money, I’m going to quit this 
part of the world instanter. I’d do it even if I 
had no friends there. I know something would 
turn up.” 

“Of course there would if you do right; and it 
will be doing right for you to go away from here 
and the life that you’re dissatisfied with. I’ll al- 
ways be glad to hear from you, and I hope you’ll 
write me occasionally.” 

“I’ll be glad to write you if you’ll give me your 
address. I’m puzzled to know how you and Louise 
Anstey ever came to be friends — you’re so un- 
like ” 

“If we were alike we probably wouldn’t be 
friends. I shouldn’t care to be friends with a per- 
son like myself — wouldn’t be attracted to her ; and 
Louise wouldn’t care for me if I were like her- 
self.” 

“The people I know are much alike — all the peo- 
ple I was ever particularly intimate with were very 
much as I am — liked the same things and did the 
same things; and I’ve had some good friends — not 
many, to be sure — but in this case I was awfully 
hard-pushed, as they say, or I’d never have come to 
Louise Anstey. She talks about herself as though 


92 


FEMININE FINANCE 


no one else had ever been respectable. And while 
I know she is that, she is neither kind nor forgiv- 
ing nor generous, as many people are who don’t 
brag about their respectability. She doesn’t de- 
serve any credit for the fact that she prefers to 
write books and live in a quiet boarding-house, 
while I prefer my way of life ; she’s doing what she 
likes and I’m doing what I like. Her life may be 
more useful than mine — books may do good while 
the things I do may not — but she deserves no credit 
nor I any blame for those facts — it’s simply 
fate ” 

Up to this point Emalene had listened out of 
sheer desire to get the woman’s point of view ; and 
thinking the time ripe for protesting against more 
of such sentiments, she roused herself, saying: 
“ We’re both Miss Anstey’s guests, and she is my 
very dear friend; so we mustn’t say anything in 
criticism of her. You realize that she’s doing you 
a great kindness, do you not?” 

“She’s doing nothing of the sort ; she went up to 
Cousin Jim’s in preference to staying with me. 
All that talk about being afraid of my having a 
fit is rot. She isn’t afraid of anything. She’s glad 
to go away and not have to put up with me, even at 
the cost of neglecting her precious ‘work.’ I know 
about Louise Anstey — living in this boarding-house, 
comfortably though she does, and working even in 
the hot summer when she might do as she pleases; 
but she’s rich and stingy ” 

“But bear in mind, please,” said Emalene, again 


FEMININE FINANCE 


93 


interrupting, “that Miss Anstey really is under no 
necessity, in the ordinary view, to do anything for 
you. She didn’t ask you to take shelter here. Had 
she, the case would be entirely different. Only her 
kindness prompts her to keep you here.” 

“Excuse me, it is not ! Kindness ! Louise Anstey 
kind! She wanted to protect her ‘respectability’ 
after I got in here — nothing else. When the thing 
that sent me here happened — it came like a flash 
from a clear sky — I said : ‘Oh, Lord, help me, help 
me now if ever you helped a poor soul.’ I prayed 
that moment if ever I did ; and immediately I heard 
Louise’s voice saying: ‘Miss Louise J. Anstey, — 
West Ninth Street, New York,’ just exactly as she 
said those words to the salesman in the shop that 
day I told you about, and I believed it was an an- 
swer to my prayer for help, and acted on it. I 
was going to tell her this. I’m sorry now I didn’t, 
even if she was so hateful to me. I still believe it 
was an answer to my prayer, and that’s the reason 
I won’t go away. I’m sure that good will come of 
my staying here — it has already — I’ve found you,” 
said she, smiling. “To any one that’s as tired of 
it all as I am, I tell you it means a lot to meet 
one who is really good ; that’s gentle and kind, and 
isn’t asking whether it’s going to hurt her to be 
good to people that aren’t just her sort, but is just 
good for good’s sake.” 

Emalene wiped her eyes as Tilly finished speak- 
ing; but for a moment or two she did not speak, 
and Tilly continued : 


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FEMININE FINANCE 


“ I admit that I was horrid to Louise yesterday 
and this morning, and I’m ashamed of it, though 
I wouldn’t say so to her.” 

“Why shouldn’t you say so to her? Why should 
you have been out of temper with her when she was 
doing all she could for you?” 

“There are ways of doing things that are more 
unkind than leaving them undone; and she was 
doing everything she did from pure selfishness — 
not that she cared a fig about me or what became 
of me, or ever w r ould care.” 

“Come, come,” said Emalene; “you and Louise 
may be great friends yet. If she gets the money 
to-day and you go sailing off to Australia to your 
friends and a new and happy life, who’ll be the one 
to thank for that?” 

“You,” she said promptly. “Do you imagine that 
in ten thousand years Louise Anstey would have 
suggested that I live differently from the way I’ve 
been living? I’m not a hypocrite; I know my own 
faults well enough. I know right from wrong — 
every one does; and I know when others are doing 
wrong just as well as I know it in my own case.” 

“I mustn’t listen,” said Emalene. Yet she did, 
while Tilly said : 

“You should have heard the things she said to 
me yesterday — calling me vile and reckless, and I 
don’t know what all. I was positively amused by 
her fear of doing an unselfish thing by keeping me 
here, and I was ugly and unreasonable as the 
dev — I beg your pardon — just to see her squirm. 


FEMININE FINANCE 


95 


As long ago as when we were together at school, 
though she was never my kind, and I didn’t know 
her much, the one thing I did know about her w^as 
her awful selfishness. She was a good student — 
the pride of the school in that way, but nobody 
cared for her beyond that. Now you ” 

“Don’t talk about me, please,” said Emalene, 
shrinking. “I’ve done nothing.” 

“All right, admitting that you’ve done nothing, 
it’s as much what you haven’t done as the way in 
which you’ve done what you have done, that makes 
the difference. She’s done enough. She gave me her 
bed — heaven knows I needed it badly enough last 
night — I don’t think I ever was so tired. She did 
as much as you would or could have done under the 
circumstances; but think of the difference in her 
way of doing it ! I wasn’t unmindful of her giving 
me her bed, and when I lay on it last night for a 
moment before I fell asleep, I thought of the text — 
I don’t know much Scripture, but I do remember 
the text that came to me — ‘Though I give my body 
to be burned and have not charity, it profiteth me 
nothing.’ She hadn’t charity for me and deserved 
no thanks for doing it.” 

“This cousin of yours, does he know of your 
present embarrassment?” asked Emalene. 

“I doubt it. By the way, Louise either didn’t get, 
or tore up her paper this morning, so I don’t know 
whether my name has been printed in connection 
with that affair. Has it?” 


96 


FEMININE FINANCE 


“Yes, the paper said that you are known to have 
been present, and have disappeared mysteriously.” 

“Cousin Jim may not know it because I don’t 
think he takes a city paper or even reads the vil- 
lage paper. He followed the races for years — he 
isn’t very young — over fifty, and has always been 
in hard luck. He has never made more than enough 
to feed and clothe himself, and about a year and a 
half ago he got hold of this little farm, and thought 
he’d try farming. I loaned him five hundred dol- 
lars to help buy the place. I happened to have 
the money when he asked me for it, and I asked 
him to give me that note as security, thinking the 
amount would be a little nest-egg. I’d loaned him 
money, even larger amounts, before, again and 
again, really gave it to him, because I knew he 
would never pay it back, but I never asked him for 
any security before. I do hope he’ll pay the money 
to Louise. If he does, I’m going to see that you 
have a fine time on your vacation ” 

“Oh, please don’t speak of it,” said Emalene, 
coloring, and really pained at the thought. “Be- 
sides, you’ll need every cent of it to get to Aus- 
tralia.” 

Emalene went down to luncheon when the hour 
for it came, with an apology for leaving her, and 
assuring her that she would not be long gone. She 
carried out Louise’s instructions and asked that 
at three o’clock a full luncheon be sent to Miss 
Anstey’s room as by that time she would probably 
have returned hungry. Her mind was somewhat 


FEMININE FINANCE 


97 


engaged with doubts and fears that Cousin Jim, 
ex-racing man, might fail to treat Louise with that 
deference she would probably expect; and return- 
ing to the room, asked Tilly : 

“Why is it, did you say, that you didn’t go to 
your cousin in this trouble? Being in the coun- 
try, it seems to me, you might have been safer and 
much more agreeably situated with your own rela- 
tives than here with Miss Anstey, so unwilling a 
hostess.” 

“I didn’t say all I might have said about him 
before Louise because she was so hateful to me and 
I feared she wouldn’t go. As I told you before, 
Louise, is, or was, the only respectable person I 
knew nearer than Australia. Cousin Jim, as you 
may imagine, isn’t any too fine. He’s my cousin 
and I oughtn’t to knock him, but I was positively 
glad to give him the money for the relief of getting 
rid of him ; and as I’m known to some of those vil- 
lagers up there where he lives, as the Tilly Baxter, 
and his cousin, if I went there, they might send 
sleuths up to look for me, in case any of the villagers 
who know me by sight should get busy and write or 
telephone that I’d been seen in the town. I 
shouldn’t wonder at all if they’re watching up there 
for me now.” 

“Do you think your cousin will be polite to 
Louise? Has he a family?” 

“No, Jim’s never married. Jim’s not a gentle- 
man in any sense. He’s a blockhead in the first 
place, and whiskey and cards and the track haven’t 


98 


FEMININE FINANCE 


made a carpet knight of him, but, instead, a shift- 
less, unprincipled fool. He’s old enough to have 
sense if he’s ever going to have any. But it’s all 
right for her to go. I shouldn’t have allowed her 
to go if it hadn’t been.” 

A knock at the door sent Tilly into the closet 
and Emalene opened the door to admit Martha 
bearing a lunch tray covered with a napkin. As 
she put it down, she remarked : 

“Dis heah lunch ain’t goin’ t’ be fitten fuh Miss 
Anstey tuli eat lessen she come soon — de buttah’ll 
be all melted, an’ de bread dry as a chip, an’ de 
salad wilt.” 

“She’ll make allowances for all that,” said Ema- 
lene; “she might come in any moment ” 

“Miss Anstey’s very particular, Miss Emalene, 
ah know ! But if de lunch sp’iled when she come, 
tell huh ring foh me.” 

“It may be that she will have had her luncheon 
when she arrives, and in that case what’s here will 
not be wasted. You know I’ve always a good ap- 
petite, Martha.” As Miss Carruthers did not en- 
courage further conversation, Martha departed, and 
in a moment Emalene closed and locked the door, 
upon hearing which the closeted one came forth 
and seated herself in the chair which Emalene 
had placed for her before the tray on the table. 
The food was far from what Tilly had mentioned 
as her ideal of a luncheon, and, as Miss Anstey 
was known to those who catered to her appetite 
for years as a dainty eater, the amount served was 


FEMININE FINANCE 


99 


not large. But as Tilly had had in thirty-six hours 
practically nothing in the way of food, the little 
spread seemed a feast. After she had, as one might 
say, licked the platter clean, she and Emalene fin- 
ished the afternoon chatting. 


LOF C. 


CHAPTER VIII 


Belated and somewhat rumpled, tired and de- 
cidedly cross, Louise reached home only in time to 
change her gown and go down to a late dinner. 
Emalene accompanied her, though she had already 
dined at the usual hour w T ith the other guests, 
who, before Louise went down, had taken them- 
selves away. The two friends, therefore, could talk 
with comparative freedom. Louise was strangely 
reticent, so that Emalene really learned but little 
of the day’s happenings. When asked a question, 
Louise replied with a reasonable degree of readi- 
ness. Her voluntary remarks, however, were con- 
fined mostly to a relation somewhat more detailed 
than she had previously had opportunity for, of 
the circumstances to which she owed Tilly’s pres- 
ence. Some points in the woman’s history Ema- 
lene knew from newspaper reading. 

During her change of toilet above stairs, Louise 
had completely ignored the presence of Tilly, who 
sat in the big chair, strangely humble and com- 
posed, without so much as asking a question of the 
irritated woman, whose journey, she easily divined, 
had been fruitless. On Louise’s return from the 
dining-room, however, she made bold to ask: 

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FEMININE FINANCE 


101 


“Did you see Cousin Jim?” 

“Yes, I saw him,” Louise answered, icily. 

On the way home, the train having been a slow 
one and detained for some inscrutable reason at 
various places along the line, she had had ample 
time to ponder possible ways out of this increas- 
ingly embarrassing situation. She had decided 
that it would be best to send Emalene to Cousin 
Jim’s the following day. She told herself that no 
stone should be left unturned — since the man had 
said he had the money — to get it from him as quick- 
ly as possible. He had declared he would pay it to 
Tilly only. However, with Emalene’s adaptability 
and charm, Louise did not doubt that he would re- 
gard her as a good and sufficient substitute, in 
case Tilly would not take herself off to get her own 
money. She disliked to think of Emalene’s meet- 
ing Cousin Jim — not alone because he was what 
he was, but because, thoroughly aroused against 
herself, he might, undoubtedly would, relate to her 
all that had taken place during her call at the 
farm, not forgetting her own humiliating fall to 
the ground at the end of a string on the public road. 
She told herself that she would never voluntarily 
confess, even to Emalene, the details of this most 
unusual experience. Emalene, she felt sure, even 
though fully informed of her own experience at 
Cousin Jim’s, would not hesitate to make the jour- 
ney there, having in mind the service to Tilly; and 
whatever Cousin Jim’s attitude toward her, should 


102 


FEMININE FINANCE 


she go, it would be less disagreeable to Emalene 
than it had been to herself. 

In spite of the chilling reply to her other ques- 
tion, Tilly asked, although she knew beforehand 
what the answer would be : 

“Did Cousin Jim give you the money ?” 

“No,” again very coldly, and with the falling in- 
flection. 

“Why?” 

“He said he wouldn’t give it to a stranger like 
myself. He doubted the authenticity of that letter 
you gave me; and although he said he had the 
money there, declared he wouldn’t give it to any 
strange woman.” 

Tilly looked thoughtful, but said nothing, and 
Louise continued : 

“He said that if you wanted your money you 
should have gone yourself to get it, not sent a 
stranger. Do you feel that you could go up there 
to-morrow to get it?” 

“I wouldn’t dare. Miss Carruthers and I talked 
the matter over. She says my name was mentioned 
in the paper this morning as having disappeared. 
I’ll bet that in ten thousand years the people you 
know would never guess that I am your mysterious 
guest, in case they knew you had a guest ; and cer- 
tainly the people I know, who know the possibility 
of my connection with this affair, would never sus- 
pect that I am right here in town, and with the 
sort of person you are. So I’m safe here ; and, dis- 


FEMININE FINANCE 


103 


agreeable as my presence is to you, Pm going to 
stay until they get over thinking they want me.” 

“But up there in the country they would never 
suspect your presence. You could leave the train 
next to Sedgwick either way, and make your way 
along the roads or across the fields, or take the 
trolley to the farm. I saw no one on the road 
after leaving the trolley; so you might go and get 
the money, and stay there, or return to town, and 
no one but your cousin and Miss Carruthers and I, 
know anything of it.” 

Tilly chose rather to lose the money than leave 
her refuge, unwelcome therein as every word and 
look and tone of Louise’s proclaimed her. She 
therefore said : “No, I daren’t go. It would mean 
being dragged into all sorts of unpleasantnesses; 
and even if they didn’t accuse me of the deed it- 
self, they would subpoena me as a witness and hold 
me until the trial, and interfere with my getting off 
to Australia. Miss Carruthers and I have talked 
that trip all over and I’m determined to go. I 
never again want to take a chance of any connec- 
tion with such an affair. I’m sick of the whole 
scheme of things.” 

“But your cousin will not give the money — at 
least he said so — to any one but yourself,” urged 
Louise. “Do you suppose he’ll keep it on hand 
there until you go for it?” 

“No; I know Jim and I’m afraid he won’t have 
it long. And I simply will not go myself. I’d 
rather never get the money. Did anything that Jim 


104 


FEMININE FINANCE 


said lead you to suppose he knew why I didn’t go 
for the money myself?” 

“I told him you couldn’t call for it and that that 
was why you sent me. I was very careful to put 
it that way, hoping to draw him out and see if he 
knew or guessed the real reason for your failure 
to present yourself ; but I saw nothing to make me 
think he suspected it. He did say, though, that I 
couldn’t make him believe you were sick — that you 
were always well and hearty. He apparently 
thought I was telling a falsehood, but not that 
you were deterred from calling by any such cause 
as the real one.” 

Emalene, who had listened thus far without 
speaking, asked: 

“Do you suppose he would give me the money 
if I should go to him for it?” 

Louise was delighted that Emalene herself should 
have offered to go. Although the question was ad- 
dressed to Louise, Tilly, seeing that her hostess was 
slow to answer, replied to it, saying : 

“There’s no telling what Jim’ll do in a given 
case. He’s a very uncertain fellow ; but if he’s got 
the money, I’m pretty certain he’d be as likely to 
give it to you, Miss Carruthers, as he would to me, 
if I write him a note and explain about you as I 
did about Louise.” As often as Tilly called, or 
spoke of Miss Anstey by her Christian name, that 
lady winced a little, and did so now. Turning to 
Emalene, she asked : 


FEMININE FINANCE 105 

“ Would you go? I know it means postponing 
your vacation another day ” 

“By the way,” interrupted Emalene, “did you 
happen to think to send a telegram for me? I 
should have called a messenger and sent it from 
here, only I was sure you’d do it as you had plenty 
of time, and had the address.” 

“No, Emalene, I did think of it, but decided that 
as it meant nothing to you and I didn’t feel under 
any obligation to save those people at the other 
end of the line, whom I don’t know and probably 
never shall, I wouldn’t bother.” 

“But I’ll go to Sedgwick,” said Emalene. “I 
happen to know the local time-table of the New 
Haven road. I could get up early, slip out of here 
quietly, before either of you awake, and have cof- 
fee and rolls at the station.” Turning to Tilly, 
she asked: “Do you think I could get the money 
from him?” 

“You’ll get the money if Cousin Jim’s got it; of 
that I’m sure,” she answered, with what Emalene 
thought unnecessary emphasis on the “you.” 

It was therefore arranged that Emalene should 
make an early start the next morning. And to that 
end a letter of introduction was written, on plain 
paper, Emalene suggesting that it might be as well 
not to have both letters of introduction come from 
the same address. Louise opined that for pur- 
poses of identification, an assumed name could be 
as well used as Emalene’s real one, but that small 
person would not listen to such a thing, and her 


106 FEMININE FINANCE 

own name was put in the letter, to which Tilly 
added : 

“I never was so in need of money, and it’s im- 
portant that I receive it to-morrow. My messenger 
of to-day reports that you doubt the signature of 
the letter she presented ; that upon comparison with 
my signature endorsed upon former notes given 
me for sums loaned, you found it did not corre- 
spond, when you know well enough that you never 
gave me a note or any other security for sums of 
money which you have had of me often. Compare 
the signature of this letter with that of the letter 
presented to you to-day and you will find it all 
right. At any rate don’t quibble over this. I am 
willing to trust the bearer of this with anything 
and everything I have; and if you have the money 
or can raise it by any means, don’t hesitate a mo- 
ment, but send it to me by her.” 

Miss Anstey begged Emalene in Tilly’s presence 
not to leave her alone for the night with the un- 
fortunate woman, so Martha was called to put up 
a cot in the room while Tilly stood in the closet, 
and Emalene rang the messenger call and wrote 
a note to her landlady apprising her of her where- 
abouts for the night. On the arrival of the mes- 
senger she dispatched this with her packages to 
her home. As she was arranging and tying her 
parcels together, she picked up one bundle, and as 
she did so, exclaimed : 

“How thoughtless of me! Here I have two bot- 
tles of grape-juice, nice and palatable and ‘food y,’ 


FEMININE FINANCE 


107 


while Miss Holliday must be hungry. You can 
take it with the crackers, and it will help you to 
forget your hunger. Fll open a bottle now. I 
got them for an old lady that I know who lives 
near here, and was going to take them in to her 
on my way home from here. Under the circum- 
stances, you are better entitled to them,” said she, 
smiling at Tilly. 

It was agreed between the trio that Louise, con- 
sidering the fatigues of the day and her disturbed 
rest of the previous night, should occupy her own 
bed, while Tilly and Emalene rested on the cot and 
the improvised bed in the Morris chair. 


CHAPTER IX 


Emalene, a stranger to fear, and accustomed to 
heed Horace’s injunction as to the passing mo- 
ments, did not find the journey to the farm irk- 
some. The sight of the fields delighted her, albeit 
near the roadway they partook of its dusty white- 
ness. The hour was earlier than that at which 
Louise had made the journey, and the sun less in- 
tense. Contributing somewhat to her gaiety was a 
sign attached to a fence, bearing the momentarily 
mystifying legend: 

“Drivn tru tis proppiti for Bidn.” 

Mr. James Holliday, landed proprietor, after en- 
trenching himself behind his palisades and cast- 
ing into the highway the belongings of his fair — 
but determined — visitor of the day previous, had 
spent an afternoon of unhappiness. As night ap- 
proached he began to feel himself much wronged 
by the lady’s call upon him, and sought to assuage 
his bruises and abrasions by the application of 
much pain-killer. Thereafter he applied in un- 
tutored fashion such bandages as his bachelor es- 
tablishment afforded, and complete inexperience in 
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FEMININE FINANCE 


109 


ministering to his own or others’ bodily ills, per- 
mitted. Indeed, the casual observer of this gentle- 
man, as arrayed for his very untidy bed, when the 
moment came for depositing his frame upon it, 
would scarcely have imagined that a slender per- 
son of the feminine gender, dainty and chic, had 
wrought upon his body the damage he sought thus 
to repair. 

As he put out his light, and stretched himself 
with sighs and groans upon his couch, he said to 
himself : 

“The terrible little vixen ! Think o’ her cornin’ 

up here an’ ! She don’t seem like as if though 

Tilly’d cotton to her. I told her I didn’t believe 
the letter was wrote by Tilly. But she’s awful 
foolish, Tilly, an’ she might have give that paper 
t’ somebody she hadn’t ought to. That little gray- 
eyed devil! I can’t get over her cornin’ up here 
an’ ” 

Sleep, which never needed long to be wooed by 
Cousin Jim, here overtook and abode with him 
until the sun was quite high in the heavens and an- 
other feminine visitor on her way to him. 

At an early hour, as he walked slowly toward 
the house from the barn, he was surprised, and not 
a little alarmed, to observe at the big gate an open 
parasol, strikingly similar to the one he had 
pitched into the road the previous day. Partly con- 
cealing himself behind a tall lilac bush, he watched 
the little figure as it approached the house beneath 
the sunshade. Keassured on discovering that this 


110 


FEMININE FINANCE 


was not his visitor of the day before come to af- 
flict him a second time with dornicks and nooses, 
he went forward to meet Emalene, as she was about 
to knock at the door where Louise had sought en- 
trance. Cousin Jim’s toilet was the same as that 
in which he had presented himself to Louise, minus 
any footwear, and plus a bandage about his fore- 
head, another about his neck, and still another 
about his left forearm. His left eye was swollen, 
black, and nearly closed. As he approached her, 
Emalene was so amazed, not to say shocked, at his 
appearance, that, in spite of herself, she was about 
to express her surprise, when he said : 

“My name’s Holliday — do you want to see me?” 

“I want to see Mr. Holliday — Mr. James Holli- 
day.” 

“That’s my name. What can I do for you?” said 
he. 

“I’ll wait here, Mr. Holliday, while you go and 
finish dressing. I’m in no hurry and I realize that 
this is a pretty early call. I came early to avoid 
the heat.” 

Cousin Jim looked a trifle taken aback ; but her 
absolute gentleness of voice and manner was dis- 
arming. He suddenly disappeared around the cor- 
ner of the house toward the kitchen, and soon re- 
turned with an air of rectitude, as of having made 
every sartorial concession to propriety. He had 
in the meantime donned the tan shoes and a waist- 
coat. Seating himself on the step of the porch, he 
spread his knees, put an elbow on each, and clasped 


FEMININE FINANCE 


111 


his fat hands between them, while he regarded his 
caller with a sidelong upward look of inquiry. 

“Mr. Holliday, I have come to ask for the money 
you owe your Cousin Augusta. I’ve brought the 
note for five hundred dollars, which I will sur- 
render to you on your payment to me of that sum 
in cash.” 

“Gussie must be gettin’ awful scary about that 
money! She sent some one here yesterday to col- 
lect it.” 

“She needs the money. I have a note of intro- 
duction here,” looking in her hand-bag, “which will 
satisfy you that Fm a proper person to receive it,” 
handing him the envelope. After reading it he 
said : 

“Well, as I told you, Gussie sent a woman up 
here yesterday to get the money ; but, as this letter 
says, I wouldn’t give it to her. I didn’t like her 
looks.” 

“What was wrong with her looks? She’s a friend 
of mine, remember.” 

“Oh, she was fine enough and pretty enough, but 
to tell you the truth, there was somethin’ about 
her that just riled me to look at her. An’ the way 
she carried on! You’ve no idea!” 

“Are you going to give me the money, Mr. Holli- 
day? You admit that you owe it, do you not?” 

“Yes, I owe it all right, an’ I’d paid it if Gussie 
hadn’t a-sent that terrible little spitfire up here 
yesterday to nearly kill me ! I thought I’d have t’ 
send for the doctor in the night”; he failed to say 


112 


FEMININE FINANCE 


by whom, but as Emalene was unaware that he was 
the only person living on the farm, the slip didn’t 
count. “She’s the most cruel ” 

“Cruel! You astonish me,” said Emalene, won- 
dering if the man were sober, and whether drunk 
or sober, given to hallucinations. 

“I reckon 7 was astonished. An’ that ain’t all 
I was, either! You ought to see my back — I’m all 
black an’ blue ! I used a whole bottle o’ pain-killer, 
an’ I’ll have to hail the doctor as he goes along the 
road to-day an’ get him to give me somethin’.” 

“What happened, Mr. Holliday?” she asked, sym- 
pathetically. “Surely it was not Miss Anstey that 
made these bandages necessary?” 

“Oh, wasn’t it though? She stoned me! See that 
place on my cheek? That one blacked my eye; and 
they’s one on my forehead” — pulling back the 
bandage — “an’ I got one on my neck, a regular 
beauty. She’s got a powerful arm for throwin’ an’ 
yankin’ — that woman. You wouldn’t believe how 
sore I am.” 

“Oh, dear !” exclaimed Emalene, whose sympathy 
was somewhat tempered by amusement and disbe- 
lief, having in mind what Tilly had said of him. 
Trying to conceal her impulse toward hilarity, and 
not knowing for the moment what else to say, she 
asked : 

“Were some of the stones smaller than others, 
Mr. Holliday?” 

“No,” he said, promptly, “some of them were 
larger than others,” without being in the least 


FEMININE FINANCE 


113 


aware that he had said anything out of the com- 
mon. “She was as busy as the devil in a gale o’ 
wind, peltin’ me with stones and bruisin’ my arms 
an’ legs an’ body awful; an’ then she lassoes me 
with a rope and yanks me around an’ gives me a 
fall that nearly broke my back, all ’cause I told 
her plain, says I : ‘I don’t believe my Cousin Gus 
sent you here.’ ” 

“Can it be that you mean — are you sure this was 
done by the lady Miss Holliday sent up here? She 
said she came from your cousin?” asked Emalene, 
more and more surprised. 

“Yes, the very one that brought my Cousin Gus- 
sie’s letter; she w T as dressed in one o’ them natty 
blue suits an’ a pretty blue hat with a pink rose on 
it, an’ a blue sunshade like yours — well, she was a 
hummer all right as far as her clothes went. At 
first I thought she was married, an’ I told her I 
bet she beat her husband every day. I wish I’d 
never seen her. My back hurt me so I thought I 
couldn’t get up this mornin’.” 

Still wondering that he should invent such false- 
hoods, Emalene asked : 

“Have you the money, Mr. Holliday?” 

“No,” he said, looking at her seriously. “I ain’t 
goin’ to lie to you an’ keep you here expectin’ t’ 
get the money. What’s th’ use? But I wa’n’t goin’ 
to give that darned little bug-faced devil the satis- 
faction o’ knowin’ I didn’t have the money, ’cause 
she made me so mad with her perky ways. It just 
done me good to lie to her.” 


114 


FEMININE FINANCE 


“You confess you haven’t the money?” 

“I ain’t got it an’ I didn’t have it yesterday. I 
ain’t no way o’ gettin’ it.” 

“But don’t you intend to return to your cousin 
the money she loaned you ? She needs money very 
badly. Do you get the New York papers here?” 

“No; I don’t get time to read, an’ I don’t care 
much for the news now’days. It ain’t like it used 
to be when I wanted the sportin’ news — I followed 
the horses. An’ I don’t doubt Tilly needs the money 
— she alwus needs money. I wonder what devil- 
ment she’s up to now ! Awful pity about a girl like 
that — that’s smart an’s had a good education an’ 
bringin’ up. But I don’t want t’ know any more 
about her capers. That girl’s spent more money! 
It’s an awful pity she has to rare an’ pitch so about 
a miserable five hundred that her poor cousin bor- 
rowed of her ” 

“However much she may have spent and how 
she spent it, is quite beside the fact that if you 
got money from her you should pay it back to her, 
especially as you gave a written promise to do so. 
If you can’t pay the money now, can’t you give 
me a renewal note, say for four months? Possibly 
at that time you’ll be able to pay it.” 

“All right, I’ll give you a renewal for four 
months. But it’s all the same to keep the old one.” 

“Understand, Mr. Holliday, that I will accept 
a renewal note in lieu of the one I have here, only 
on your positive assurance that you haven’t the 
money now to pay this one. Now,” she said im- 


FEMININE FINANCE 


115 


pressively, and looking at him with as near an air 
of sternness as any one had ever seen about her, 
“you solemnly swear that you haven’t the money 
with which to take up this note to-day?” The man 
seemed to respond to her mood, and looking at her 
candidly, lifted his right hand slightly, as he said : 
“I do solemnly swear. I ain’t made money since I 
took to farmin’. Just about all I’ve done is to 
get enough to eat an’ pay for my help an’ feed my 
few head o’ stock. I find it ain’t so easy to run a 
farm. It ain’t easy even if you’re not lookin’ for 
more’n enough to feed yourself an’ help an’ stock. 
If you’re expectin’ to do more’n that, it’s hard — 
I tell you it’s hard,” shaking his head dolefully. 

He looked so discouraged that, in spite of herself, 
Emalene pitied him a bit. Suddenly she asked : 

“Did you ever hear of the hired man that was 
engaged by a farmer who assumed he had secured 
a perfect treasure because the man stated that he 
never got hungry and never got tired?” 

“No,” grinned Cousin Jim; “do tell me about 
him.” 

“The farmer took him to his farm, and he turned 
out to be very lazy and a fearful glutton, to the 
great disappointment of his master, who reminded 
him of his statement, whereupon the man replied : 
‘I told you true— I eats afore I gets hungry an’ I 
rests afore I gets tired.’ ” 

Cousin Jim chuckled his appreciation, and Ema- 
lene hoped that it might dawn on him that these 


116 


FEMININE FINANCE 


rules of life might account somewhat for his own 
down-at-the-heel condition. Continuing, she asked : 

“Then you don’t find farming profitable ?” 

“No; it ain’t so easy as it looked. Before I took 
to it I had a sort o’ fool notion that farmin’ was 
just lettin’ the old earth grow things for you while 
you took naps an’ set on the porch and did pretty 
much as you pleased. I was tired of the other 
things an’ thought this little farm that I could get 
so cheap’d be just the thing for me. But it’s dif- 
ferent. As for hired men, they’re the triflin’est lot ! 
I tell you Miss — I forget your name — if I could 
pay that money, I’d do it ; but I can’t.” 

“I know about farming. I’m a farmer’s daugh- 
ter; and although I’ve lived in the city for eighteen 
years I’ve never forgotten what I learned of farm- 
ing.” 

While she was speaking, a man quietly ap- 
proached from the gate, and stopped within twenty 
feet of where she and Cousin Jim sat. Addressing 
the latter, he said : 

“I’d like to speak to you. Would you mind step- 
ping here a minute?” 

Cousin Jim arose slowly and stiffly and limped 
toward the -stranger, who, as the farmer approached 
him, moved slowly down the walk toward the gate. 
Arrived at the gate, Cousin Jim leaned against 
the very post where the day before he had sat aloft, 
while the other, pulling a blade of the tall grass, al- 
ternately bit and twirled it in his fingers, resting 


FEMININE FINANCE 117 

one foot on a board of the fence. “Are you James 
Holliday?” he asked. 

“Yes; that’s my name.” 

“Are you a cousin of Tilly Baxter?” 

“Yes.” 

“Where is she?” 

“She’s in New York; at least I suppose she is. 
I haven’t seen her in six months an’ saw her there 
then. Late years she’s alwus there — summer an’ 
winter — too fond of the little old town to leave it. 
Are you a friend o’ hers?” 

“Well — not to say a friend. But I’ve a little 
business with her an’ I can’t find her. Sure she 
hasn’t been here in the past three days?” 

“No. I ain’t seen her in months. She ain’t been 
here in a long time — I think it’s most a year. I’m 
her cousin all right, but we ain’t such awful cronies. 
The few visits she’s made me’s been very short — 
generally from one train to the next. She ain’t 
fond o’ th’ country.” 

“Then you positively don’t know where she is?” 

“Positive. The last time I saw her was at the 
Theatre an’ she said she was livin’ somewheres up- 
town in the Fifties, but I didn’t put the number 
down. If she wants me she knows where to find 
me — I ain’t movin’ round.” 

“A lady from the city visited you yesterday.” 

“Yes. Where’d you find that out?” 

“I’m not saying.” 

“Lord, man! you don’t suppose that was Tilly, 
do you? Come t’ look at you good, you’re the feller 


118 


FEMININE FINANCE 


that passed here yesterday when I was settin on 
this here very post. What d ’ you want o’ Tilly?” 

“I didn’t know but that the lady that was here 
yesterday might be a friend of hers and know where 
she is. What was she throwing stones at you for? 
How’d you get that black eye?” 

“That? That — little — spitfire — she ain’t a friend 
o’ Tilly’s. Lord! She’s the coldest-hearted little 
devil I ever see! Comes up here to collect some 
money I owe on a note an’ cause I can’t pay on the 
minute, stones me an’ all but kills me! I wish 
you could see my back — an’ my legs ! She fit like 
a tiger for that little bit o’ money — nothin’ some 
people won’t do for money! You put it down that 
she’s no friend o’ Tilly Baxter’s. Did you see her 
— the whole performance? When you went past 
I didn’t think you’d seen her performin’.” 

“Yes, I did. I thought as I came down the road 
that you were crazy, flinging your arms around like 
a windmill. At first I couldn’t see what was up, 
but as I got nearer I saw her and what she was 
doing. By gravy, she’s a corking good shot! If 
that’s the way women collect money due ’em, I’ll 
always borrow of men. No wonder women haven’t 
succeeded as bankers and brokers !” he laughed. 

But Cousin Jim, whose statement the man appar- 
ently did not doubt, objected to the levity, and re- 
garded him somewhat sullenly. The latter, how- 
ever, ventured to ask : 

“Does the little lady on the porch belong in the 
village?” 


FEMININE FINANCE 


119 


“Now you’re talkin’. She’s a real lady — a fine 
woman. You can’t listen to her sayin’ the first 
word without knowin’ she’s a real lady. What I 
call a lady’s a woman that’s fine herself an’ think’s 
there’s others just as fine as what she is, an’ that 
really don’t know how fine she is.” 

“Who is she?” 

“She’s come to collect some money, too. By 
George, everythin’ comes at once! I ain’t makin’ 
money an’ I can’t pay now! Lord knows I’d ’a’ 
paid the note that one brought yesterday quick 
enough, just to get rid of the darned little spit- 
fire, if I’d had anythin’ to pay with. This one to- 
day’s different. I can’t pay her either, but she’s 
actin’ reasonable just the same.” 

“What’s her name?” asked the man. 

“None o’ your damned business! Get out! What 
you cornin’ here askin’ questions for? I ain’t no 
manner o’ doubt but she’ll tell you her name quick 
enough, but I’ll be hanged if I will ! You ain’t got 
no more chance o’ gettin’ her name out o’ me than 
a feather in hell !” 

From where they stood they could see Emalene 
sitting unconcernedly enough, enjoying the beauty 
of the summer day — a very harmless-looking per- 
son. 

“Then I can’t get any information from you about 
your New York cousin?” 

“No. I don’t know anything about her of late. 
If she’s left New York I don’t know it. That’s 
straight goods. She ain’t been here an’ I ain’t ex- 


129 FEMININE FINANCE 

pectin’ she will be. What you want to see her 
about?” 

“A little personal matter.” 

“Well, I can’t help you. I ain’t seen her an’ I 
don’t want to.” 

This seemed to satisfy the man, who, bidding 
Cousin Jim “Good-morning,” started off down the 
road. 

Whatever Cousin Jim may have thought of the 
inquiry as to Tilly’s whereabouts, he kept a strict 
silence concerning it. He did not, in fact, think 
much about it. He had known something of Tilly’s 
previous straits. 

“You say you’re a friend o’ that little devil that 
was here yesterday?” asked Cousin Jim of Emalene, 
as he reseated himself on the step of the porch. 

“Yes; she’s a friend of mine, of many years, and 
a good woman. You shouldn’t speak of her as you 
do — you shouldn’t speak of any woman in that 
way.” 

“I don’t see why the truth shouldn’t be spoke 
about a woman any more’n about a man. But I 
never said a disrespectful word to any woman o’ 
the right sort nor about one in my life. But I must 
say — well, I hate to think she’s a friend of 
yours ” 

“You needn’t. I’m proud of her friendship. She 
is a lady and must have been under extraordinary 
excitement if she did anything here yesterday that 
seemed unlike a lady ” 

“She’s injured me. I can’t work — I can hardly 


FEMININE FINANCE 


121 


set up. I’ll have to have a doctor and the dickens 
knows what expense before I can w r ork, because 
she’s treated me so! I can’t even look out for a 
hired man while I’m so bruised up. I think I’ll 
have the law say somethin’ to her for assault an’ 
battery — that’s what they call it when a woman 
beats a man, ain’t it?” 

“I’m sure I don’t know,” said Emalene, smiling 
in spite of herself at the assumption that she was 
familiar with terms and circumstances of that char- 
acter, and the idea of Louise in the capacity of a 
man-beater. 

“Anyhow^ there’s a law to deal with such terrible 
people. An’ she’s done me bodily damage. I’m 
goin’ to have her brought up before the judge to 
see if she dares to do me so an’ not have to pay for 
it. I know a lawyer in Bridgeport that’ll take 
my case an’ see that I get damages.” 

His declaration of his intention to bring suit 
against Louise, following so hard upon his inter- 
view' with the stranger, imbued Emalene at once 
with the idea that the latter was a country law yer 
come for a talk with his client preliminary to the 
filing of papers therein. As Cousin Jim sat on 
the step before her, with his look of grievance, the 
bandage on his forehead, his bruised cheek, and 
blackened eye, she w^as really moved to pity. It 
might not, she argued, be amiss to let him pro- 
ceed, or at least to create upon Louise’s mind the 
impression that he intended to do so — to the end 
that she might learn somewhat more of forbearance 


122 


FEMININE FINANCE 


and charity — provided, always, that Louise had 
done as he had said. 

“Do you mean that you would really sue Miss 
Anstey?” 

“I’m tellin’ you the God’s truth. I’m agoin’ t’ 
sue her. I got her name an’ address on the letter 
that Cousin Gussie give her.” 

“That man that’s just been here — is he a lawyer? 
Did you give him Miss Anstey’s name and ad- 
dress?” she ventured. 

“I’m agoin’ t’ bring suit for five thousand dollars 
right away. I’m agoin’ t’ show my lawyer all my 
bruises,” said he, rubbing his arm, “an’ when I do, 
I bet he’ll want me to sue for more,” he finished, 
looking as abused as a whipped child. 

“Were there any witnesses to what took place?” 

“Two different men passed along the road while 
the performance was goin’ on, but she let up both 
times. I’m sorry now f didn’t call ’em to come an’ 
help me; maybe we could ’a’ tamed her, two of us.” 

“You haven’t yet answered my question : is that 
man that’s just been here a lawyer?” 

“He ain’t exactly a lawyer, but he knows a lot 
about law — knows a lot of lawyers, too,” he an- 
swered. 

“Please write that note for five hundred dollars, 
dating it yesterday, in favor of your cousin, Au- 
gusta Holliday, and I’ll surrender to you the one 
I have here — make it due in four months.” 

“All right,” said Cousin Jim, and disappeared 
kitchenward, where he remained long enough to 


FEMININE FINANCE 


123 


write on blank paper a promissory note according 
to Emalene’s instructions. This he handed her. 
She looked it over carefully, and satisfied there- 
with, put it in her bag, returning the old note to 
him. As she did so she asked : 

“Do you think you’ll be able to pay this at ma- 
turity?” 

“No; I don’t see where I’d get the money unless 
I get the five thousand dollars on this suit I’m 
goin’ t’ bring.” 

“You had in mind the bringing of this suit be- 
fore you promised to give me this renewal — depend- 
ing on its possible outcome to pay it, or pay the one 
I am surrendering to you?” 

“I been a-thinkin’ of it ever since I begin t’ hurt 
so last night in my back an’ head an’ arms.” 

“And if you shouldn’t win this suit, you cannot 
pay?” 

“I ain’t no chance on earth o’ gettin’ five hun- 
dred dollars — not one chance in fifty thousand o’ 
ever seein’ five hundred dollars at any one time, 
farmin’ this farm.” 

“Then the note is practically worthless?” 

“Yes. Of course if I was to find a gold mine out 
in the pasture there, or strike oil, or discover coal, 
or a marble quarry, I hope I’m too much of a gen- 
tleman not to pay Tilly. But as it don’t seem likely 
I’ll find any o’ them things on this little bit o’ Con- 
necticut, the paper ain’t much good.” 

She now felt it her duty, even though she thor- 
oughly disapproved of Louise’s course toward him 


124 


FEMININE FINANCE 


as reported by him, to use all possible means to 
prevent his carrying out his declared intention. So 
she said : 

“You mustn’t let yourself be too much influenced 
by your lawyer, Mr. Holliday. You must take into 
account that you bring upon yourself a great deal 
of unfavorable comment, if not of ridicule, by ac- 
knowledging that you had been worsted physically 
by a little woman like Miss Anstey.” 

“I ain’t willin’ t’ say I wouldn’t be willin’ to be 
laughed at by the community just for the sake o’ 
bringin’ her to law for her smart capers, even if 
they was no money in it! An’ if I get the five 
thousand I’ll pay Tilly an’ fix up th’ farm, an’ buy 
another cow, an’ ” 

“You ought to remember that it was only a de- 
sire to help your cousin and get the money for 
her which you rightly owed and had promised to 
pay on that day, that led Miss Anstey here and 
caused her to do whatever she did to you yester- 
day.” 

“You’re«wrong there,” he interrupted. “She said 
she’d show me I daren’t insult her — she called my 
sayin’ I didn’t believe my Cousin Tilly wrote that 
letter an’ sent her t’ collect the money, insultin’ 
her! She said she didn’t care whether she got the 
money or nqt, she was goin’ t’ take it out o’ my 
hide — not because she was fond o’ Tilly, or wanted 
to help her, mind you, but because her nasty pride 
was hurt, an’ I wouldn’t bow down an’ scrape to 
her. Tilly’s gettin’ the money or goin’ without it 


FEMININE FINANCE 


125 


had nothin’ to do with the whacks this here friend 
o’ yourn give me.” 

“I cannot account for her acting as you say. I 
have known her for ten years and never saw her in 
a violent temper. She is considered a model of de- 
portment ” 

“If she ain’t a spitfire, I never see one! Lots o’ 
people get credit for havin’ a good disposition be- 
cause everybody round ’em’s takin’ pains all the 
time to have everythin’ smooth an’ straight for 
’em. You say you been friends with her for years 
an’ she ain’t never clawed you yet? You must ’a’ 
walked pretty straight before her. Maybe your 
time’s cornin’. Did you ever doubt her word?” 

“I never had occasion to. She is truthful — a 
woman of honor — and we’re friends.” 

“Well, I bet you been doin’ all the friendly — 
givin’ up to her, an’ takin’ the back seat an’ not 
expectin’ anythin’ of her — lettin her set an’ admire 
herself an’ you doin’ the fetchin’ an’ carryin’ an’ 
all. I’ve seen her kind before! The world’s full of 
’em — selfish an’ conceited, an’ bad-tempered.” 

Emalene took her leave after attempting to get 
from Cousin Jim a promise that he would do noth- 
ing about the threatened suit until she should have 
consulted Louise and reported to him. 


CHAPTEK X 


On reaching the Grand Central Station on her 
homeward way, Emalene went into a booth and 
talked with Louise on the telephone, asking that 
she come to her, disguised, as soon as possible. 
Having reached home, she had just returned to her 
room after luncheon, when Louise burst in upon 
her in great excitement, exclaiming: 

“Oh, Emalene ! What has happened? What will 
become of me? I never was so excited and alarmed 
and distracted !” 

“Has Tilly been ‘actin’ up’?” 

“No. She’s been as mild as a dove all morning 
— has been reading quietly. But I couldn’t work. 
I kept wondering what you were doing, if you’d 
get the money, and if — all sorts of things. Did you 
get it? I forgot to ask that most impdftant ques- 
tion when you telephoned me from the station.” 

“No,” Emalene replied. “I got nothing but a re- 
newal of the man’s note. He said he hadn’t the 
money and couldn’t pay. Here’s the note — please 
give it to Tilly,” said she, handing it to her. 

“He told me yesterday that he did have the 
money,” said Louise. “Said he had it in his trou- 
sers’ pocket!” 


126 


FEMININE FINANCE 127 

“Cousin Jim didn’t say ‘trousers,’ now did he?” 
laughed Emalene. 

“No.” 

“How was he arrayed when you saw him?” asked 
Emalene. 

“Not like Solomon, I assure you. He had on 
trousers, stockings with holes in them, and a shirt.” 

“Ah,” said Emalene, “he must have been expect- 
ing you or some other distinguished caller, because 
no such superfluities as stockings adorned his feet 
when he presented himself to me. He was bare- 
footed.” 

“Isn’t he impossible? But why all this secrecy, 
Emalence? Why couldn’t you come to me for 
luncheon?” 

“I’ve had the unusual and very exciting ex- 
perience of sitting beside in the train, and making 
myself conversationally fascinating to, a detective 
who was undoubtedly ‘spotting’ me. Isn’t that the 
word for being followed by a detective? No — 
‘shadowing’ is the one. I shouldn’t wonder if he’d 
apply for board here and wear a jute beard and 
goggles and a green necktie and a snuff-colored 
coat, and trousers of large plaid, and ” 

“How can you joke? This is terrible, Emalene! 
What will you do?” 

“Do? Nothing! If they arrest me I’ll go to 
jail. I’d have to, as I’m not physically able to re- 
sist one of those six-footers weighing two hundred 
and eighty pounds. I wouldn’t mind very much, 
inasmuch as I am innocent of any law-breaking. 


128 


FEMININE FINANCE 


It would be a new experience and mightn’t be so 
terribly disagreable. Going to jail for one’s own 
offences would be sad ; but going for nothing 
wouldn’t be such bad fun ! Think of the smugness 
of me, sitting up on a board all night long re- 
peating to myself the story of ‘The Maid and the 
Magpie,’ and glorying in ‘me innocence.’ ” 

“Oh, how can you? I’d die! Besides, Emalene, 
you do know something about the matter and would 
have to confess it if they asked you.” 

“Yes, but I’d not know the moment they might 
ask me where Tilly might be. By that time she 
might have gone from your house. I could not con- 
scientiously say at this moment that I know w T here 
she is.” 

“That’s a bit of your canny Scotch ancestry show- 
ing itself. I wonder you asked me to come here 
under the circumstances! I might have run right 
into the arms of a detective! You should have been 
more considerate of me — on my honor you should, 
Emalene,” said she, irritably. “If you chose to 
run your own head into a noose by talking to that 
detective, it was no reason why you should have 
wished to place me in a dangerous position also. 
You might have left that detective alone! Likely 
enough you spoke to him first and drew him into 
conversation. Your fondness for new experiences 
and talking to strangers will be your undoing yet, 
as I’ve often told you. You are entitled to your 
own personal peculiarities, but when it comes to in- 
volving others as you have involved me ” 


FEMININE FINANCE 


129 


“How have I involved you, Louise? Your fears 
are running away with your judgment, your polite- 
ness, even. I am in this affair solely because I am 
your friend! I am interested in your visitor, to 
be sure, as I am in humanity in general, but pri- 
marily you are, or were, my excuse for acting in 
the matter.” 

“Oh,” groaned Louise, “I never was so upset ! If 
I’ve said anything to offend you, I’m sorry, and I 
hope you’ll forgive me. But I’ve always told you 
that you make yourself too common with people — 
that your disposition to talk to strange people ap- 
proaches vulgarity ” 

“S — sh, Louise ! I’d rather be vulgar than 
some other things. After all, there’s something 
human in plain vulgarity — it’s elemental, and has 
the advantage of being more wholesome than these 
refinements of refinement that lead people to forget 
that there is such a thing as brotherly love. But, 
as you’ve said you’re sorry, it’s all right, and I 
don’t mind. But I sent for you to say that you 
have placed yourself in a position from which you 
may have to pay dearly to extricate yourself.” 

“Do you refer to what I did to Cousin Jim?” 

“Yes. He threatens to bring suit against you 
for five thousand dollars ” 

“Nonsense! For what?” 

“You know what you did. I only know what 
he says you did, and what I saw of the man swathed 
in bandages.” 

“Bandages! What does he say I did?” 


130 


FEMININE FINANCE 


“You may as well tell me, Louise. He has told 
me his side of the story.” 

They sat in Emalene’s little hall-room, neat and 
orderly, but almost devoid of feminine touches. 
Her frequent removals, and the habit of spending 
upon others a considerable portion of even her 
modest stipend, did not permit her to surround 
herself with superfluities in the line of furnishings 
to eke out the scanty ones provided by her land- 
lady. A few old-fashioned framed photographs of 
members of her family hung on the walls, a shelf 
of well-selected and worn books, and a small, grace- 
ful desk, comprised all but absolute necessities 
that the room contained. Her trunk had been 
brought up from the storage closet, and was half- 
filled with what she purposed taking to the coun- 
try. 

She sat on the divan bed, while Louise occupied 
a low rocker. The latter now answered her re- 
mark w T ith a look of scorn, intended to reflect her 
feelings for her adversary of the previous day, 
saying: “I did pelt him with stones, but they 
couldn’t have hurt him much — in fact, I’m sure they 
didn’t.” 

“Possibly you mean that it didn’t hurt you to 
throw them. But I saw evidences on his cheek 
and forehead, that they did hurt him. He has a 
terribly blackened eye and swollen cheek ” 

“From those little stones? And I didn’t throw 
them up at him very hard !” 

Here Emalene broke into the most frantic and 


FEMININE FINANCE 


131 


delicious peals of laughter. Until that moment 
she had been somewhat skeptical of Cousin Jim’s 
veracity regarding his interview with Miss Anstey, 
or hers with him. But Louise’s own words left 
no room for further doubt. While she laughed, 
Louise glowered. When at last Emalene regained 
her composure, she asked: 

“Throw them up at him? Up where?” 

“To get away from me when I insisted upon his 
giving me the money, as I supposed I was right in 
doing, he perched himself on one of those tall gate- 
posts, and defied and derided me.” 

Again the uncontrollable and delicious ripples of 
Emalene’s laughter filled the room, while she, her 
whole body relaxed, lay sidewise on the cushions 
a moment or two, in the most exquisite abandon of 
hilarity. Then, sitting up and wiping her eyes, 
she asked : 

“Did you throw many of what he calls ‘dornicks’ 
at him?” 

“Yes, a good many.” 

“All the same size?” 

“No; but some of them were of considerable size. 
As he grew more tormenting I increased the size 
of the missiles and the force with which I threw 
them. Hateful, ignorant, awful old thing ! I 
might have known her cousin wouldn’t be a gentle- 
man! It was your suggestion, Emalene, that the 
journey to him be made. What do I care about her, 
whether she goes to Australia and loads a different 


132 


FEMININE FINANCE 


life or not? I’m not responsible for her. Once I 
get rid of her I don’t care what becomes of her ” 

“I proposed to go myself, but you chose going 
instead of staying with Tilly. Remember that?” 
Emalene reminded her. 

“But please remember that it was your sugges- 
tion that she reform which caused anyone to go. 
Had you been content to haul her out of the closet 
and let her revive, and kept still and not played 
the missionary to her, we should never have known 
of Cousin Jim.” 

“We can’t be sure of that. But, admitting that 
it was my fault that anyone went to Sedgwick, 
you would certainly not blame me nor anyone else, 
not even him, however provoking he was, for the 
bodily damage you did Cousin Jim. He says his 
whose person is mutilated by your missiles — that 
when he shows all his bruises to his lawyer he is 
quite sure the latter will advise a suit for more 
than five thousand dollars, which is the figure he 
now holds in mind as the price of his hurts. If 
he has many such as those I saw on his forehead, 
cheek and neck, I must say, my dear Louise, the 
case looks serious.” 

“I can’t see how he can say I hurt him much! 
He’s not truthful ! I don’t believe at all that he’s 
as badly hurt as he pretends ; you probably poured 
out your soul in sympathy with him, and he grew 
eloquent in describing his miseries. There’s no 
way of finding out if he spoke the truth ” 

“He wants to bring suit right away, he says, 


FEMININE FINANCE 


133 


while the evidence of your maltreatment remains 
on his cuticle. Of his more serious injuries he may 
never recover.” 

“What others?” 

“Those occasioned by the fall you gave him. He 
said you ‘yanked’ him with a lasso, and that the 
fall nearly broke his back. You might have killed 
him, Louise,” said she, seriously, though the im- 
pulse to laugh was strong within her. “He isn’t 
young and supple, but old and fat and heavy. He 
really seemed to be quite badly off. He might be 
injured internally.” 

“Well,” she said, slowly, “I shouldn’t wonder if 
the fall did hurt him a little”; and Emalene’s 
valuation of Jim’s veracity bounded upward sev- 
eral points. 

“Then don’t you think he has reasonable grounds 
for an action against you? I’ve nothing to gain 
or lose in this matter, if it is necessary to say so 
in order to convince you of my disinterestedness. 
I don’t care who knows my willingness to help a 
woman like Tilly. If such an impulse proclaims 
me a vulgar person, I’m glad to be known as such. 
No one can ever be harmed by acting from a right 
motive — by the consequences of a right motive. I 
don’t care who knows my connection with Tilly. 
I wouldn’t care, even if she were guilty, which I’m 
sure she is not, and I don’t believe I’d be punished 
for it. My real friends would think none the less 
of me because of it. I’ve no fears, because I’ve done 
no w r rong.” 


134 


FEMININE FINANCE 


“I don’t feel that I’ve done any wrong, even if I 
did stone that old fellow and nearly break his 
back — mind yon, I’m not confessing on the house- 
tops that I did that. He shouldn’t have treated me 
as he did ! I wanted to get that money for his 
cousin and get rid of her.” 

“The motive being to get rid of her?” 

“Heaven knows, considering what she is, no one 
could blame me for wishing to do that, could they?” 

“But, innocent as she is of this crime — I’m sure 
of it, Louise — she was doing you, could do you, no 
harm.” 

“Isn’t her very presence an insult to me — to any 
good woman?” 

“No, I can’t see that it is. Good women aren’t 
so easily harmed and insulted! And the money, 
even, wouldn’t have rid you of her as long as the 
authorities were searching for her. You know she 
said she wouldn’t leave until the real doer of the 
dreadful deed was found.” 

“And I thought that to get the money at all I 
must get it that day — the day the note was due, 
or he would never pay it to her, and it made me 
desperate,” continued Louise, anxious to account in 
some way for her conduct toward the fat farmer. 

“Goosie ! Even I, who never was a party to any 
of those large fat financial transactions, to which, 
I have supposed, you were inured, don’t need to 
be told that inability to meet the note on the day 
for which his written promise was given, wouldn’t 
cancel his obligation to pay it some time. I took 


FEMININE FINANCE 


135 


the renewal note and returned the old one because 
I wanted to fix a date toward which he must work. 
I thought that course better than to keep the old 
note, which, having failed to meet at maturity, I 
feared he might think he need never pay.” 

“It seems strange for you to champion against 
me — the friend of years — the cause of a creature 
who, by her own confession, is vile ; that deliberate- 
ly threw away her birthright for a mess of pot- 
tage, and has doubtless ruined, in fact has ruined, 
other lives.” 

“I don’t think she deliberately did those things. 
She isn’t very deliberate or thoughtful now, after 
all her experiences. Fancy her ability at seven- 
teen to picture the consequence of that elopement! 
Her parents were probably not very thoughtful 
people. Had they been even ordinarily prudent 
and wise they might have saved her from the con- 
sequences of her own acts while she was still under 
their control, and her whole life might have been 
turned into a different channel.” 

“Admitting that my motive was to get rid of 
Tilly, can I be blamed for wanting to go on with 
my work? I wanted to get the money so that she 
might go away and leave me free to work.” 

“If it was your anxiety to get the money that 
led you to treat this old man with violence you 
might better have given her the money outright! 
But he says you told him you’d pay him out for 
insulting you — that when you began what he calls 


136 


FEMININE FINANCE 


‘beating’ him, von had ceased to care whether or 
not you got the money.” 

“I didn’t beat him ! I never touched the horrid 
old thing! I’d have scorned to do so.” 

“Most people would have scorned to do as you 
did, Louise. And whether or not you beat him is 
a mere matter of definition. He says you beat him , 
and proposes to bring an action against you for 
what he calls ‘assault and battery’ — he evidently 
thinks that means woman’s corporeal chastisement 
of man.” 

She observed, without appearing to, the effect of 
her words on her friend, and that she had thereby 
gained a little ground. Louise did not reply at 
once, and when she did it was to say : 

“Seriously, do you believe that vulgar, illiterate 
old fellow will bring suit against me?” 

“I do. He said he would. And since he said 
other things that I put down as falsehoods when he 
said them, and which your own words have cor- 
roborated, I have, naturally, more confidence in his 
statement that he will bring suit against you. He 
went so far as to say that he knew a lawyer in 
Bridgeport who would be glad to undertake the 
case, and that he intended to put it in his hands 
at once. I tried to get him to promise to take 
no steps in the matter until I had had the oppor- 
tunity to talk to you and report the result to him. 
He didn’t promise, but I’m hopeful that he will 
wait until I see him; but it must be done at once.” 

“Emalene, he couldn’t bring suit! I never was 


FEMININE FINANCE 


137 


in a law-suit, but Fm sure he could get nothing out 
of it but a bill for his lawyer’s fee and a lot of 
ridicule.” 

“But are you blind to the fact that you’d get 
considerable of that article yourself — quite as much 
as he would — besides having your relations with 
Tilly disclosed ! You seem to think the latter would 
be very damaging to you, but I think it would be 
more damaging to be blazoned forth in the news- 
papers as having gone to this man’s home and 
beaten him ” 

“I tell you, Emalene, I didn’t beat him! Now 
don’t say that again !” she cried, angrily. 

“Whatever you may choose to call what he desig- 
nates as ‘beating’ and ‘the performance’ and ‘throw- 
in’ dornicks’ and ‘whacks’ and ‘yanks’, is quite un- 
important beside the fact that if you allow this 
suit to be brought you will gain an amount of pub- 
licity, and in a connection that even my vulgarity 
would balk at. Can’t you see it in that light?” 

“It would be awful, I know; but he wouldn’t 
dare !” 

“Don’t deceive yourself. He is thoroughly 
aroused against you. And, as I said before, your 
confirmation of his other statements inclines me 
to the belief that his threat to bring suit is not 
an idle one.” 

“I — I — do wonder if he would?” 

“You haven’t a great deal of time to deliberate 
upon it. I promised to see him to-morrow.” 

“He told me a falsehood about the money — said 


138 


FEMININE FINANCE 


he had it yesterday. If he’s untruthful in one state- 
ment, why not in another? Who would believe 
him?” 

“His reputation for veracity may not be a very 
good one, but he seems to have been truthful in his 
statements to me.” Seeing she had lost a little 
ground, she thought she might venture to say: 

“He may have the money and be saving it to pay 
his lawyer’s retainer.” 

“Do you, Emalene, really believe he will sue me?” 
she repeated, excitedly. 

“Why not? You have injured him — he has suf- 
fered in his body and will in his estate because of 
you — you having incapacitated him for work; and 
lie’s fearfully indignant at you.” 

“Oh!” said she, in great alarm. “What shall I 
do? Please advise me, Emalene. I don’t know 
which way to turn! I’m all at sea! And all on 
account of that dreadful woman who’s sitting in 
my room this moment, comfortable and serene, 
while I am tossed and whirled between difficulties 
brought upon me by her unwarranted imposition.” 

“Do you really want me to advise you? To say 
what I should do if placed in circumstances exactly 
corresponding to yours?” 

“Yes,” said she, eagerly. 

“Well, this is just what I should do: I’d have 
Tilly endorse the note which I have just handed to 
you ; I’d accept it and pay her the five hundred dol- 
lars; then I’d go to Cousin Jim with the note and 
offer to surrender it to him in consideration of his 


FEMININE FINANCE 139 

executing and giving me a waiver of all claims 
against me for damages ” 

“Nonsense ! Give her five hundred dollars ! And 
for a piece of paper that has no value !” 

“But it would have value: it is a valid claim 
against Cousin Jim’s estate. He has a snug little 
farm ; and if he should refuse to give you the waiver, 
you could undoubtedly enforce the collection of the 
note; and, laying aside all consideration of charity 
and humanity, and putting the matter on a basis of 
sheer financial expediency, can’t you see that your 
possession of the note would have a wholesome de- 
terrent effect on Cousin Jim in regard to the suit? 
I don’t think he’d hesitate a moment to execute that 
waiver if you were to go to him with that note to- 
morrow morning. Paying five hundred dollars in- 
stead of five thousand, besides becoming notorious 
as a man-beater, would be a stroke! Very few peo- 
ple would hesitate to accept such a proposition, 
Louise.” 

During Emalene’s remarks Louise listened with 
knit brows, and a moment after her friend ceased 
speaking, looked up and shaking her head, said : 

“But it doesn’t appeal to me. I’ll not give that 
woman five hundred dollars.” 

“Then there’s no further occasion to discuss the 
matter with you. But there’s one feature of the 
case that I regret more than I can tell you, and that 
is, having seen Cousin Jim’s battered condition, I 
might have to appear as a witness for him against 
you.” 


140 


FEMININE FINANCE 


“Would you?” 

“If I were called as such I’d have to. There’d 
be no other way. By refusing a summons I’d get 
myself into difficulty and be held for contempt of 
court. As I can’t help you further in this difficulty, 
I must pack and be off to the country for my vaca- 
tion.” 

“Surely you’d not desert me in such a dilemma, 
Emalene?” 

“I’d be very foolish to sacrifice my vacation time 
further with no prospective result for you. I don’t 
regret the two days of it that have already passed 
if they’ve comforted you; but you seem to think 
they haven’t, so I mustn’t interfere and complicate 
the situation further for you.” 

Emalene seemed to have a sudden inspiration. 
Her expression changed quickly from one of friend- 
ly interest to eager thoughtfulness, and prompted 
Louise to ask : 

“What is it? What has occurred to you? Some 
other noble inspiration?” 

“It came to me this moment like a flash from the 
blue, that I’d be glad to have them arrest me in 
connection with this episode! I could and would 
prove that I’d no connection with it that infringed 
upon or violated the law, and I could sue them for 
false arrest; and I might, perhaps, on my prospec- 
tive claim against the city, borrow the money to 
hustle Tilly away to safety. If I had the money 
I’d get her out of town quick enough.” 

She was so eager, so intent, that Louise, per- 


FEMININE FINANCE 


141 


turbed as she was, shouted. Emalene, not imper- 
vious to the absurdity when Louise’s laughter thus 
characterized it, joined her heartily, after which 
Louise remarked : 

“You are the queerest creature — fancy getting 
money by such means !” 

“Plenty of money is got every day by means no 
less peculiar, and by people who never think of 
themselves, nor are thought of, as absurd; and to 
keep in idleness and luxury, women who would 
scorn to use a cent of it to aid a woman like Tilly 
— women who know no more about what real life 
means than cats on silken cusions licking cream; 
and who have no desire to know anything but that 
which panders to their vanity and self-love.” 

“Hear! Hear! How did we get so far off the 
track? How about that detective? Aren’t you 
afraid to go out? I am.” 

“No, I’m not afraid because I’ve done nothing to 
make me fear the law, and, as I’ve just said, I’d 
rather court arrest now than avoid it. And, dis- 
guised as you are, no one would take you for the 
person who went to Sedgwick yesterday. I see 
you borrowed someone’s pongee coat — Tilly’s, isn’t 
it? and all those veils! I’ll go right on with my 
packing — you won’t mind?” asked she, beginning 
to fold garments. 

Louise was in the unhappy position of having 
added to her difficulties the withdrawal of Ema- 
lene’s sympathy and helpfulness. She sat silently 


142 


FEMININE FINANCE 


watching her busy friend flitting about the room, 
and with an apparent effort said : 

“Emalene, I’ll pay that old fellow’s doctor’s bill 
occasioned by what I — did — to him, but I’ll not do 
more! He’s an unprincipled old thing and thinks 
this a good opportunity to make money.” 

“No, Louise, you’re mistaken. If you accept the 
proposition which I outlined, he’d make nothing 
but immunity from a debt he probably never in- 
tends, and may never have, to pay. He already has 
had the five hundred dollars ; and from Tilly’s easy- 
going make-up and what she said to me yesterday, 
I’m quite positive she would never enforce the claim 
against the old fellow. In a way I believe she’s 
fond of him as the only relative she has that notices 
her. He probably knows she’d never enforce the 
collection of the note. But with the note in your 
possession it would be a different matter to him.” 

“His farm may be covered with mortgages, but 
it looks to be valuable. How do you suppose so 
shiftless an old thing ever came into possession of 
a piece of property like that? It’s beautifully situ- 
ated, and the house isn’t bad — with comparatively 
little expense it could be made very attractive and 
desirable — of course I don’t know what it’s like 
inside,” said the practical and acquisitive Miss 
Anstey. 

“We could easily learn how much incumbrance 
there is on the property : the county records would 
show that,” said Emalene, with a smile of the mind 


FEMININE FINANCE 143 

at this unconscious manifestation on Louise’s part 
of her ruling passion. 

“But, oh!” — disgustedly — “those disreputables, 
how ” 

“I’m not maintaining,” interrupted Emalene, 
“that they are w T hat one would call high-minded; 
but they’re human. I don’t excuse their offences 
against the tenets of morality, but I don’t judge 
them. Cousin Jim either told you a falsehood when 
he said yesterday that he had the money, or he told 
me one to-day when he said he hadn’t it. He’ll 
have to take the consequences of his own sins — 
I wouldn’t like to say what punishment should be 
meted out to him; but if you think of it a little, 
he’s already got considerable of punishment. How- 
ever, I’m positive that if in a similar or relatively 
unfortunate position, you had sought Tilly Baxter’s 
protection, she would have cut off her right hand, 
given you all she had, rather than suggest to you 
that your presence was unwelcome. And I’m also 
sure from the very little I saw of Cousin Jim — 
unlikely as he looks, uncouth, illiterate, and even 
unkempt as he undoubtedly is — that had he gone 
to you, and you been ever so much more exasperat- 
ing than he could possibly have been to you yester- 
day, his anger, disgust, rage, whatever your conduct 
might have aroused in him, would never have been 
vented upon you in any such manner as that in 
which you manifested your feelings toward him, 
and which has caused him to think so strangely of 
you.” 


144 


FEMININE FINANCE 


“These very unlikely cousins have certainly a 
great advocate in you.” 

“I don’t believe you are yet quite impressed with 
the importance of thinking of this matter serious- 
ly.” 

“I’ll think it over a few days. By the time I’ll 
have had a chance to ponder it well, perhaps they 
will have found the man they are looking for and 
Tilly may be free to go back to her usual haunts 
or wherever she may choose to take herself for a 
five-cent car-fare. When I’m rid of her I shall not 
care where she goes. Imagine my giving five hun- 
dred dollars to a woman like that ! She’d probably 
go uptown to the — Tenderloin, they call it, don’t 
they? — and spend it inside of two days.” 

“You could, if you gave it to her, stipulate how 
it should be spent — might even buy her ticket to 
Australia and give her the rest of the money for 
incidental expenses on the way; or send it to her 
there for use until she got into some way of living. 
I’d give my vacation time to doing all the busniess 
in connection with getting her off, if you’d give her 
the money. I’ve nothing else to give, Louise. I’d 
give the money quick enough if I had it. I believe 
the woman’s in earnest.” 

“You’re much of a visionary ! You’re aching for 
a chance to do something philanthropic ; but you’ll 
not do it with my money ! I’ll not give it to that 
woman for that purpose or for any other.” 

“Louise,” Emalene exclaimed, “I have an idea! If 
Tilly were to endorse that note to you on your pay- 


FEMININE FINANCE 


145 


ment to her of, say, three hundred and fifty dollars 
— if you’d take it I’d guarantee to get the five hun- 
dred dollars out of Cousin Jim. Would you do it? 
You’d have to wait to get the money back, but you’d 
make a hundred and fifty dollars.” 

“Yes, I’d have to wait indeed. But, my dear 
visionary friend, I am not going to allow you to 
be so foolish as to undertake anything so unlikely 
of accomplishment. I don’t want any financial 
transactions with Cousin Jim, nor his cousin, the 
lady with the blondined hair. Besides, just to 
gratify my curiosity, how would you undertake to 
get money out of Cousin Jim? I have a mental pic- 
ture of you doing unto him much as I did when I 
tried to get money out of him. You are an optimist 
— but to get money out of him would be equivalent 
to getting blood out of a turnip ! How would you 
do it?” 

“I don’t know now. I can’t tell ‘right off quick,’ 
as the children say, but I’d hope and hope and 
hope ” 

Louise laughed. “But hoping and hoping and 
hoping never yet buttered parsnips.” 

“It has done greater things than that, Louise, 
and will do still greater. I’m not afraid to under- 
take to raise the money to pay you if you’ll advance 
it.” 

“But three hundred and fifty dollars wouldn’t 
take her to Australia.” 

“It mightn’t take her first-class; and with her 
ideas of spending money she might find herself 


146 


FEMININE FINANCE 


close to shore before she actually reached there. 
But the object is to get her there. Then Fd give 
her my vacation money if she starts right away 
while I have it; and she may have some things to 
dispose of by which we could raise a small addition- 
al sum to help her on the way.” 

“Do you mean that you would actually give 
up your vacation in such a cause?” Louise asked, so 
astonished that she raised her voice. 

“Yes. Why not? It isn’t such a great matter; 
besides, you know it has been said that most people 
never need a vacation so much as they do just after 
they’ve had one.” 

Louise meditated a moment, and . said : “I’m 
quite sure that old fellow won’t sue me.” 

“Then, having done all I can, I shall leave on 
the 7 :20 for Hemmelston to-morrow morning. Now 
I’m going to write a note to Tilly and ask you to 
deliver it to her.” 


CHAPTER XI 


Louise, as she walked to the corner to take the 
street-car homeward, was filled with misgivings. 
She remembered with a smile, her conviction as a 
child, that a minister and a policeman never did 
any wrong, that, like the king, they could do none. 
She timorously believed that the man whose foot- 
steps she heard close behind her was a detective. 
She was afraid and ashamed, more than she wished 
any one — even Emalene — to suspect. She could 
not deny even to herself that she was not blameless 
in the affair with Cousin Jim; that if he w r ere so 
terrible a man, she was guilty of the grossest treach- 
ery to Emalene in having permitted her to go to 
the farm. But she consoled herself by acknowledg- 
ing that he w r as not vicious, but rather, stupid, lazy, 
illiterate, untruthful and ill-bred. She knew that 
the threatened suit, if permitted to go to trial, 
w r ould mean humiliation and disgrace. Disclosure 
of her relations with Cousin Jim w r ould involve the 
disclosure of her relations wfith the even less de- 
sirable Tilly, which latter, for all her knowledge 
of the law r in such cases made and provided, might 
be a crime. 

She w T ould not permit herself to buy an afternoon 
147 


148 


FEMININE FINANCE 



paper, and in her determination to keep herself in 
ignorance of the tragedy, had again torn up her 
morning paper. 

She reached the door of her own home in so un- 
decided a frame of mind — so torn between hopes 
and fears — that she hesitated whether to enter, or 
return to Emalene and accede to the terms of her 
proposition. But she let herself into the house 
with her latch-key, and reached her room to find 
her guest stretched upon the bed and again snoring 
loudly. She had explained to Tilly on leaving that 
Miss Carruthers had important news to communi- 
cate that she deemed best not to transmit by tele- 
phone. Louise awoke her and handed her Ema- 
lene’s note, which enclosed Cousin Jim’s promissory 
one. Tilly sat regarding it, as Louise thought, 
rather despondently. 

“Fm very sorry,” said she, finally. “I really 
don’t know what to do. I had depended so on get- 
ting away from here — not this house alone, but 
out of the country — since Miss Carruthers talked 
to me yesterday, that it’s a blow to me to have the 
means of doing so slip away from me in Cousin 
Jim’s failure to pay.” Emalene in her note had 
explained that Cousin Jim neither had the money 
nor knew when he would have it. 

“I’m sure I’m sorry too,” said Louise. “I was 
never in such a quandary. I believe I shall go mad !” 

“Oh, not so bad as that ; the case isn’t so desper- 
ate as all that,” said Tilly, wondering at her ve- 
hemence. 


FEMININE FINANCE 


149 


“You’re happy in not knowing how desperate the 
case is. If you’ll excuse my saying it, you’re about 
the only one concerned in this imbroglio that can 
take things calmly and sleep undisturbedly.” 

“Why shouldn’t I be calm? I’ve done no wrong 
in connection with this affair, and as soon as the 
excitement blows over and they get their man, I’ll 
be all right! For the time being I might as well 
be calm. If I were ranting around here like a wild 
animal, crying and fretting, don’t you think I’d 
be harder to bear than I am? I’m trying, since 
Miss Carruthers and I had a talk, to make myself 
as inoffensive as I can. The only regret I have in 
connection with this affair, is the necessity I feel 
under to stay here, and thus cause you displeasure 
and discomfort. Your difficulties really are not in- 
creased at all by Cousin Jim’s failure to pay, since, 
even had you brought back the money yesterday, 
I shouldn’t have left at once. I must stay here 
until the criminal is caught, no matter where I go 
afterwards. I’ll be quiet. And I do hope you’ll 
go on with your work. If I could help you with it 
I would. Why not let me? I write pretty well, 
and could copy for you.” 

“Oh, the work ! Really, I’d almost forgotten it !” 

“There’s no need of doing so. Go right on. I 
won’t stir if doing so will disturb you. I’ll prom- 
ise faithfully.” 

The woman was presenting herself to her hostess 
in an entirely new light. Louise had not before 
suspected that she had a reasonable side. On enter- 


150 


FEMININE FINANCE 


ing the house she had divested herself of the pongee 
coat, but sat with hat and gloves on, still in a vortex 
of indecision. Tilly scrutinized her for a moment 
and asked : 

“Is there anything distressing in regard to my 
being here that I don’t know?” 

“Er — well, yes — but I can’t tell you what it is,” 
said Louise, surprised. 

“Haven’t I the right to know?” 

“I couldn’t tell you ” 

“You’re not fair to me!” said Tilly, in some 
alarm. 

“But in this new phase of the matter you are 
not concerned.” 

“Who is? Not Miss Carruthers!” 

“Miss Carruthers only indirectly. There ! Don’t 
ask more.” 

“But I ought to know, I think.” 

“But I cannot tell you now,” said Louise, some- 
what more gently. Then she arose from her chair, 
stood irresolute for a second, and reseating herself, 
burst into tears. 

Tilly flew to her side, imploring : “Please, don’t. 
What is it? Whatever it is I’m sorry. I’m the 
cause of it all, but I can’t help it. But don’t cry, 
please.” 

A few moments later Louise, arrayed in the 
pongee coat, was hastening down the stairs again. 
She soon reached Emalene’s door, where, upon in- 
quiry, she learned that Miss Carruthers had gone 
out — that a gentleman had called, and after a short 


FEMININE FINANCE 151 

conversation with her in the drawing-room, had 
taken her away in a closed cab. 

To the frantic Louise, this had but one explana- 
tion — the man was a detective, and Emalene under 
arrest. She felt her powerlessness to do anything 
but go home and await results. She requested pen 
and paper of the servant, and wrote Emalene a 
note, asking that immediately on her return to 
the house, she call her on the telephone, adding 
in her extremity the word “imperative,” and charg- 
ing the servant that it was to be delivered to Miss 
Carruthers immediately upon that lady’s return. 

Faint from excitement, she reached her room, 
having taken off the pongee coat at the street door 
and folded it into a small bundle which she tucked 
under her arm, lest Martha know she had worn it. 
Such was her frame of mind that even the sight 
of Tilly was comforting. Where could Emalene 
be? Doubtless at that moment engaged in some 
harmless but noble effort to protect her friend and 
Tilly from espionage. Louise told herself that it 
was her duty to find Emalene; but how? since to 
search for her might further complicate the situa- 
tion for all. Possibly if she awaited developments, 
things might right themselves. She recalled a les- 
son in natural history : the partridge, when hunted 
and startled and afraid, remains motionless — as it 
has been expressed : “When the partridge doesn’t 
know a thing to do, it doesn’t do a thing.” So she 
waited, sitting in a silence that was the refinement 
of cruelty to her anxious guest, who, nevertheless, 


152 


FEMININE FINANCE 


respected her mood. Dinner time came, and Louise 
went down to make a pretense of eating, while the 
guest upstairs partook of another installment of 
crackers and grape- juice. 

Miss Anstey cut short her stay below stairs and 
returned to the adjourned Quaker meeting. At 
about eight o’clock, as the two women sat silently 
in the semi-darkness, there came a knock at the 
door. Tilly immediately went into the closet and 
the door was opened by Louise on, not Emalene, as 
she hoped, but Martha, who in her musical drawl 
announced : 

“Dazza gemp’man in de pahlah tuh see yuh, Miss 
Anstey.” 

“His card, Martha?” 

“He didn’t gimme no cahd, Miss Anstey.” 

“Nor his name?” 

“No’m, he didn’t gimme his name. Ah ast him 
fuh it, too. He sayed it wasn’t Material. Ah ain’t 
ast him what his name wasn’t , Ah ast him what 
it was . But I cum along up, an’ I say : ‘I got to 
tell Miss Anstey just what he sayed !’ ” 

This seemed the very last straw! Louise was 
enraged at Martha for disregarding her instructions 
to bring either a card or the name of the caller. 
But to scold that easy-going damsel would be futile, 
and, possibly, complicate the situation further. 
With the feeling that her time had come to go the 
way that poor Emalene had gone — presumably to 
jail — not knowing what else to do, she locked Tilly 
in again, and descended to meet — neither a detec- 


FEMININE FINANCE 


153 


tive nor any other of the law’s minions, but a very 
well-mannered young man from her publisher’s 
whose name she did not know, but whose face was 
familiar, as she had often seen him at the publishing 
house. He had come, in his employer’s behalf, to 
ask that she deliver to him certain chapters of her 
manuscript, now somewhat overdue, which it was 
desired to put in the hands of the printer the fol- 
lowing morning. 

Her fears were calmed for the time being. She 
recalled that she had scarcely touched or thought 
of her work for more than two days. She gave the 
young man what she had ready, ashamed to be send- 
ing an amount so meagre, and determined not to 
allow Tilly’s presence, or any other horn of her 
present dilemma, to interfere with what she had 
promised to perform: She continued silent after 
returning to her room, but turned on the light and 
worked steadily for some hours — long after her 
guest had stretched herself on the cot. This, on the 
supposition that Miss Carruthers would return to 
spend the night, had remained in the room. She 
retired late, and slept but little. Her guest, mean- 
while, slumbered undisturbed, but not undisturb- 
ing. 

She was up, bathed and dressed the next morn- 
ing long before her usual breakfast hour, and 
worked awhile, though to little purpose. She was 
restless and anxious and soon went downstairs to 
the telephone in the hall to inquire over the wire if 
she might speak to Miss Carruthers. The reply 


154 


FEMININE FINANCE 


was that Miss Carruthers had not returned; that 
it was thought she had spent the night with her 
friend Miss Anstey, where, if the inquirer would 
call her up, she would probably find her. 

Louise was glad she had not said it was herself 
who was inquiring. But the answer almost de- 
prived her of physical strength. She rallied in a 
moment, and seated herself on the bottom of the 
stairs in the hall, where Martha, with pail and 
brush, came to “do” the hall marble, and found her 
a few moments later. Surprised at her early rising 
and lack of color, the maid asked with concern : 

“What’s de mattah, Miss Anstey? Yuh don’t 
look ve’y peart this mahnin’. What yuh doin’ out 
of baid ’fore de chickens lef’ de roos’? ’Tain’t good 
fuh to git up so early when you cayn’t git yuh 
breakfus’ right away.” 

“Never mind, Martha. I’ll be over this when I 
have my breakfast. I’ll sit here until it’s ready; 
I can’t go upstairs just now.” 

Martha disappeared, and presently returned with 
a cup of steaming coffee. This, she thought, was 
all the poor lady needed to make her “as good as 
new.” But no material thing was adequate to bring 
Louise out of the condition which her fears had 
produced. This could only be accomplished by re- 
moving the cause of her fears. 

She drank the coffee, which was all and more 
than she required of material sustenance; and ask- 
ing that a complete breakfast be brought to her 
room later — seeing in this a chance to get a good 


FEMININE FINANCE 


155 


meal for Tilly without suspicion — she returned to 
her room and woke that person from sound sleep 
to tell her that she must rise and allow the cot to 
be “made up,” as, aware that Miss Carruthers had 
not spent the night in the room, Martha would 
wonder at its disturbed state when she brought up 
the breakfast. 

Awakened so suddenly, Tilly lay for a moment 
to get her poise. Then she arose and hastily 
stripped the cot and began rearranging it. Louise 
came forward, and together they made it look as 
Martha would have made it. Louise’s reticence 
was near breaking down, but she restrained herself, 
determined not to communicate her fears to Tilly 
until the latter had breakfasted. Tilly had just 
emerged from the bath when Martha came with the 
tray, saying solicitously as she entered the room: 

“Theah now’s ev’y a good breakfus’ fuh yuh, an’ 
yuh eat it, eve’y bit, Miss Anstey, you heah me? An’ 
don’t yuh get up so early next time ! Yuh too crazy 
about dat writin’! Yuh kill yuhself wukkin’ too 
hahd this hot weathah.” 

Tilly was soon out of the closet, and Louise said : 

“I’m glad I thought in time to have this sent up 
for you, ostensibly for me. I can’t eat anything 
this morning, so I took a little coffee and had them 
send up the regular breakfast here.” 

“Are you sure you don’t want it? Are you sick?” 

“No, I’m not sick, but I can’t eat anything. I’ll 
work while you eat. I want to turn out some copy 
to-day — I did a little last night” 


156 


FEMININE FINANCE 


“I’ll help you in any way I can. If you write it 
out in the rough, I’ll copy it for you as soon as I 
have my breakfast. That’s one thing I could al- 
ways do — write plainly and readily.” 

She seated herself to the iced melon, boiled eggs, 
chops, rolls and coffee, and declared on finishing 
that she had never before known how delicious 
food could be. Her attitude toward her hostess 
seemed to have changed at sight of the latter’s dis- 
tress. After Tilly had finished, and the tray had 
been set in the hall, Louise said : 

“I’m awfully distressed ” 

“Yes, I know. I saw that yesterday. What is 
it?” 

“Miss Carruthers has disappeared! A detective 
followed her home from your cousin’s, and when I 
saw her yesterday she was apprehensive that he 
might annoy her further ; that is why she telephoned 
me and would not return here, and why I borrowed 
your pongee coat in going to see her, and wore a 
perfectly new hat. I don’t believe I shall ever wear 
the hat again, although I wore brown veils enough 
to cover it. Do you suppose they’ve taken her to 
jail?” 

“Jail? No! Why should they?” Tilly said ex- 
citedly. “She has done nothing to go to jail for! 
The fact that she called here while I happened to 
be here is no reason why they should take her to 
jail ’” 

“But she’s so queer. She said that if they wanted 


FEMININE FINANCE 157 

her to go to jail in connection with this case, she’d 
go !” 

“She’s the greatest ever! And enjoy it, too, no 
doubt ! If they wanted to take her, of course she’d 
have to go — she couldn’t prevent them. But they 
wouldn’t want to. How could they? What has 
she done to be arrested for?” 

“That’s what she asked?” Louise replied. 

“I don’t think she’d have anything to fear. Those 
fellows, the police, would know she was innocent, 
as she could and would prove to them, unless she 
took a notion to let them continue to suspect her 
for a while for the experience. They’d treat her all 
right. They’re not so bad — at least they are 
human. But something else might have happened 
to her — we certainly oughtn’t to be sitting here 
while she might be drowned, or run over by an auto- 
mobile or ” 

“I’m going out right away to find her,” said 
Louise. “I’ll have a cab called and make the rounds 
of the hospitals and station-houses.” 

“First let me see the morning paper,” said Tilly. 
“I had no opportunity to see the paper yesterday 
and you said you wouldn’t look at it ; so, for all we 
know, the necessity for my hiding may not now 
exist. I’ll go out and hunt ” 

“No. You mustn’t go unless the guilty man — 
or woman — has been found and arrested.” 

“But get the paper, please.” 

Louise produced it, and still adhering to her de- 
termination, handed it to Tilly, who, looking at the 


158 


FEMININE FINANCE 


Heading, saw that tlie guilty one was still at large, 
and herself and others hunted. This she commu- 
nicated to Louise, who said at once : 

“Then you must remain here and I’ll go out to 
search for Miss Carruthers ” 

“I could ” 

“It will be best for you to remain here, at least 
until I return, because if she has been taken away 
by detectives and detained with the idea of making 
her confess, your appearance in search of her would 
implicate her — don’t you see? You might better go 
and give yourself up without saying anything about 
where you’ve been, or that you ever saw her. Then 
they’d release her. If she has been injured in any 
way, I as an old friend am the one to look her 
up. She has plenty of friends of all sorts and 
conditions who would spring to her aid instantly 
upon hearing that she needed help.” She spoke 
excitedly, and as she finished, almost broke into 
tears, adding: “To think she may be drowned or 
maimed, or ” 

“Louise, don’t give way until you learn some- 
thing definite,” pleaded Tilly. 

“But you stay here,” said Louise. “You can, 
safely now, because if they are detaining her to 
wring a confession of your whereabouts from her, 
they might draw and quarter her, and they’d not 
succeed, because she believes you’re innocent.” 

Undecided as Louise was as to her course toward 
Cousin Jim, she deemed it best to keep Tilly within 
call, for a time at least. 


FEMININE FINANCE 


159 


“Yes, I know that. But if, as you say, the de- 
tectives followed her from Cousin Jim’s, inasmuch 
as Cousin Jim probably has the letter you handed 
him, with your address on it, may not that be a 
clue for the detectives? I think I’d better clear 
out quick,” replied Tilly. 

“No, I think you will be safer right here for the 
present.” 

“But if, as seems almost certain now, I’m to be 
hounded here, there’s no good dragging you into 
the affair. I might better put on my hat and go 
back to my rooms uptown and await my fate there. 
It’s an awful pity I didn’t write a fictitious name 
in that letter and put it on plain paper. A ficti- 
tious name would have served as well as your own 
by which to introduce you as the person to receive 
the money. Strange neither of us thought of it! 
I think I’d better go — really I do.” She arose and 
walked into the closet to take down her gown and 
coat, but Louise sprang up, saying : 

“No, no! Wait till I return.” 

“My word ! I thought the one thing you desired 
above all others was to rid yourself of me!” 

“At least stay here until I return! I’m going 
out to hunt her and hope to get back soon; but 
don’t go now.” 

Putting on her hat and catching up her sun- 
shade and gloves, Louise was ready for the street 
at once. 

Tilly was careful to make no promise to re- 
main. She was torn between her fear of detection 


160 


FEMININE FINANCE 


in Louise’s room, and the hope that Cousin Jim 
would be thoughtful enough, in view of his failure 
to pay, to refrain from talking to detectives, and, 
possibly, reckless enough to destroy the letter. 

Apparently Miss Carruthers had been “nabbed” 
and was by now probably engaged in combing the 
hair of some fellow-prisoner, or relating something 
jolly and interesting for her delectation. 


CHAPTER XII 


Miss Anstey’s cab, in a few moments, left her 
at Emalene’s door, and entering that young 
woman’s room she found her just arrived from her 
night out. 

“Where have you been, Emalene? I never was 
so alarmed. I’ve been nearly frantic!” 

“Why, why, why? There’s no good being fool- 
ish,” said Emalene, smiling at her affectionately. 

“Whatever did they do to you?” 

“Just what I supposed they would.” 

“But who was the man that took you? They told 
me here that you went away with a strange man in 
a closed cab !” 

“I did. The man was the detective that I told 
you about that came down with me in the train 
from Sedgwick.” 

“How did they treat you? Weren’t you fright- 
ened?” 

“They treated me well enough. I wasn’t fright- 
ened. I enjoyed the experience.” 

“Yes, yes,” said Louise, a bit testily; “no doubt. 
I believe you’d enjoy a year at Sing Sing and final 
electrocution ! But why did they keep you all night 
and then let you go?” 


161 


162 


FEMININE FINANCE 


“They were convinced that I knew nothing about 
Tilly Baxter.” 

“But you do know about her! How could you 
tell a falsehood outright, Emalene? Fin surprised, 
even though a beneficiary thereby.” 

“I do not know Tilly Baxter. To me there is no 
such person. I might have been asked questions 
which, as I should have answered them truthfully, 
would have complicated the situation for you, my 
dear Louise.” 

She was looking very chipper, as she sat in a low 
chair, embracing one small knee, her head on one 
side in a bird-like poise, her blue eyes shining. 
Obviously it would not do to make too light of 
her “night out,” so she reverted to the subject by 
remarking : “Those people were entirely human — 
in fact humane. I enjoyed the experience,” and 
hastily, before Louise had an opportunity to think 
of what she was speaking, or make reply, she asked : 
“How’s Tilly this morning?” 

“Would you believe, Emalene, she became so ex- 
cited over your disappearance — I was obliged to 
tell her, I was so alarmed and desperate — that she 
volunteered to go in search of you? I tried to make 
her promise to remain in my room until I should 
return, but she wouldn’t.” 

“The idea of you two women worrying about me ! 
Louise, you must never! It’s an utter waste of 
time. I simply slip along. Tilly’s self-forgetful- 
ness was beautiful ; she’s a good woman ” 

“I wouldn’t be willing to say that; but she does 


FEMININE FINANCE 163 

seem different since she got the Australian bee in 
her bonnet.” 

“Of course — now there’s something for her to 
hope for, to strive toward. I’m so sorry our farmer 
cousin didn’t find that five hundred dollars handy. 
If we could get the money to send her awav — think 
what she might become !” 

“We didn’t know but that you had been run over 
by a motor-car or a surface-car, or that some other 
dreadful thing might have happened to you, aside 
from our fears of what the officers of the law might 
have done to you. I thought at first I’d make the 
rounds of the hospitals and police stations, by tele- 
phone or otherwise, before coming here, but decided 
to come here first. I’m glad I did. I’d have been 
frantic if I hadn’t found you here. Do you think 
they’ll be after me?” 

“So far as I know they don’t suspect you. But 
Tilly is still searched for, and that looks bad for 
you when we take into account that Cousin Jim 
has your name and address.” 

“Yes, I was coming to that. Do you want to go 
to Connecticut to-day?” 

“No, Louise, I really do not. I’d much prefer 
getting ready to go to Hemmelston. Two of my 
vacation days have already been squandered, and 
you were unreasonable yesterday, if you’ll excuse 
my frankness.” 

“Pardon me, but you were the unreasonable one, 
if you’ll think of the situation in the light of cold, 
sober, practical common-sense. You suggest my 


164 


FEMININE FINANCE 


giving Tilly a large sum of money for a piece of 
worthless paper! Preposterous, in view of what 
I’ve already done for her.” 

“I wouldn’t boast of what I’d done for her, 
Louise. If you had done what you did a little 
more graciously it would be different.” 

“Csesar Agrippa! What did you expect?” 

Emalene chose to make no direct reply, but in- 
stead said: “Suppose I should go to Connecticut 
to-day, what would you propose to Cousin Jim? 
I wish he had a telephone so we might save time.” 

“Yes, it’s awkward that he has no telephone,” 
Louise assented. “We might telegraph him to go 
to the village and call us up at twelve o’clock. Sup- 
pose we do, what would you suggest as a propo- 
sition to him?” 

“The one I talked over with you yesterday — 
there’s no use repeating it.” 

“That’s absurd, Emalene, and you know it.” 

“You don’t deny that you hurt him— an old man, 
who, unable to defend himself from a strong, 
healthy and hostile female like yourself, had to 
take to the tree-tops ( this is poet’s license, you un- 
derstand) ; while you, instead of doing as the farmer 
did in the First Reader, whose apples the boys 
stole and then treated him with contumely, ‘heaved’ 
hard things — ‘dornicks’ — at him !” she laughed. 
“Tell me, Louise,” she continued, “were you tem- 
porarily insane? What could you have been think- 
ing of? I shall never get over vour maltreatment 
of that man.” 


FEMININE FINANCE 


165 


“Yon find it very amusing, no doubt, but I don’t, 
I assure you. I wonder if there’s anything you 
wouldn’t laugh at? It’s very irritating to me, Ema- 
lene, to have you treat this thing, really a tragedy 
to me, with levity.” 

“I’m sorry you object to my laughing about it. 
But I have the feeling that some one should get 
something out of it that’s worth while, since you 
get nothing but fears and a possible lawsuit, Cousin 
Jim bruises and abrasions, pains, aches, and in- 
ternal disarrangements, and Tilly, disappointment. 
Do let me laugh if I can, at the extraordinary pro- 
cess of collecting — or trying to collect — the money 
due on a promissory note in the fair land of Con- 
necticut! But you haven’t yet told me what your 
message to Cousin Jim would be, should I go to 
him to-day.” 

“Tell him I’ll pay his doctor’s bills.” 

“Nonsense, Louise. For your own sake I’d not 
be the bearer of that message, because in that case 
you might have to pay a great deal more than the 
pittance my proposition implies, or the amount he 
threatens to sue for. Cousin Jim, with this prom- 
ise from you, might be ill all the remainder of his 
life, with physicians galore in attendance ! I have 
in my mind’s eye Miss Louise J. Anstey, ten years 
from now, mayhap fifteen, at the age of — no, I 
will not speak the fatal number — working hard, 
houses, lands, stocks, bonds all gone, sacrificed 
to Cousin Jim’s much-coddled and ever-increasing 
stock of — shall I say ‘ill-health’ since there’s noth- 


166 


FEMININE FINANCE 


mg ‘ill’ about health? He might, relying on this 
promise of yours, never see another well moment ! 
Mind you, I don’t say he wouldn’t, only that he 
mightn’t. So, my dear, if that’s all you have to 
propose, I shall not tread the land of wooden nut- 
megs to-day nor any other, in behalf of this affair 
of yours with Cousin Jim.” 

“Do you really refuse to go to Sedgwick?” 

“I shall certainly not go there on an errand that 
I know will be fruitless. Moreover, I must re- 
mind you that, whatever is done to avert Cousin 
Jim’s appearance in person or by representative, 
at your house, should be done promptly — you have 
no time to lose. As you go home after luncheon, 
I’ll walk over to Broadway with you to the ticket- 
office and buy my ticket to Hemmelston, and order 
my trunk taken this afternoon.” 

Declaring that she must return to Tilly at once, 
Louise declined the invitation to luncheon. Ema- 
lene, therefore, donned hat and gloves and accom- 
panied her as far as Broadway, Louise protesting 
against the threatened desertion. Emalene, how- 
ever, reminded her anew that she was losing the 
opportunity to get good by doing good, in refusing 
the proposition to give Tilly thd money and accept 
the note. 

“Do good to the extent of five hundred dollars! 
I fancy I see myself doing anything so foolish!” 
said Louise. “I don’t believe in throwing money 
away. I know the value of money.” 

“You over-value it, Louise; you think it’s pos- 


FEMININE FINANCE 


167 


session is all, whereas one can really only learn 
the value of money by spending it judiciously. 
Don’t you know the new reading of the text: ‘Ask 
and ye shall receive’? It is now: ‘Give and ye 
shall receive.’ ” 

“Heaven knows you’ve always given enough — 
you’ve all but given the clothes off your back — and 
what have you received? Judged by your own 
case the new reading doesn’t appeal to me as the 
old one does. These new-fangled readings of the 
Scriptures are like some new-fangled other things, 
unnecessary and entirely useless.” 

“What have I received? Possibly very little of 
the things that can be touched and tasted ; but ” 

“As for spending money judiciously, can you 
conscientiously say that you think I’d be spending 
money judiciously to give such an amount to Tilly?” 

“Time’s passing — why don’t you go to Connecti- 
cut yourself?” 

“And meet that man again! I’ll draw a check 
for fifty dollars and we can get the money here at 
the bank and you can take it up to him — say on the 
11 :50 train.” 

“I positively refuse. Leaving Tilly out of the 
question, why don’t you offer Cousin Jim, not five 
hundred dollars, but a reasonable sum for the dam- 
age you did him? You’ve no idea how much hap- 
pier you’d be in thinking of him, not as an untidy 
old man whose life hasn’t been very intelligently 
spent, but as one whose privacy you invaded and 
did bodily harm — whose ability to earn his living 


168 


FEMININE FINANCE 


you have interfered with — and doing your duty 
by making what reparation you can for your con- 
duct. You’ll find yourself well rewarded in your 
happiness and peace of mind, if one needs a reward 
for doing right; it is generally its own compensa- 
tion.” 

“Yes,” said Louise, “it has to be.” 

By this time they had reached the Broadway 
ticket office, at the door of which they paused to 
take leave of each other. “Please excuse my seem- 
ing to hurry you, but I must a little. Speed to 
your pen on the book. I wish I had time to tell you 
in detail about last night — I will some time. Good- 
by,” said Emalene, giving her a little kiss on the 
cheek, and entering the busy ticket-seller’s. 


CHAPTER XIII 


Louise thought it selfish in a degree of which 
she had deemed Emalene incapable, that she should 
be willing to withdraw, with apparent unconcern, 
and go light-hearted to the country to enjoy her- 
self and leave a friend in trouble. And such 
trouble ! Even while acknowledging to herself that 
she could foresee no definite resulting benefit from 
a further sacrifice of Emalene’s time, she was dis- 
appointed in her. 

Reflecting thus, she had nearly reached home, 
when, whirling about, she retraced her steps to the 
Broadway car, which, with her eager footsteps 
after leaving it, soon brought her again to Ema- 
lene’s door. She found her friend just returned 
with her railway ticket, and at once asked her to 
go to Sedgwick, adding: “I want to see and talk 
to Cousin Jim, to entreat him to be reasonable. I 
want to see for myself what is his physical condi- 
tion.^ 

“You may as well go alone, Louise. I don’t see 
that I can help you.” 

“I can’t and won’t go alone to that old fellow 
again! Come along, Emalene; be good to me! 
You talk so much about being good to people — 
now here’s a chance to be good to me, a friend, in- 
stead of wasting your sympathies on those two ter- 
169 


170 


FEMININE FINANCE 


rible people! Don’t be selfish and go off a-pleasur- 
ing while I stay here trying to work, beset by this 
pestiferous pair! You and you alone can help me. 
You might clear up, or help to clear up, this whole 
muddle by remaining over another day — a day that 
will not mean much to you, but which may mean 
so much to me.” 

“Think rationally about this case,” said Emalene. 
“You’re sacrificing what ought to be most precious 
to you — your peace of mind — by refusing to think 
of these people as fellow-beings less fortunate 
than yourself, and do them a kindness, while 
at the same time doing yourself a still greater 
one. I have a wild maniacal desire to laugh 
whenever I think of what you did to the man in 
the case, but quite apart from kindliness, humor, 
or anything else, you really ought, as a sop to your 
conscience, as a balm to your self-respect, as a 
sinapism to your bowels of mercy, to do something 
for Cousin Jim.” She frowned in the effort to 
avoid laughing and thus destroy the import of her 
words, while her blue eyes, refusing to twinkle less, 
made her face comical in the extreme. “If you have 
any ‘bowls of mercy / as the plantation Bible-reader 
called them, you should consider Jim. If you think 
I’m selfish and hard-hearted to want to go away and 
leave you, I don’t know of anything, judging from 
your attitude as I understand it, that you would 
gain by my remaining ; while I should lose the time 
that I would like to spend in a way more agreeable 
than rushing up and down on the train between 


FEMININE FINANCE 


171 


here and that Connecticut village. I’m frank, you 
see. There’s no better way. Will you go to Sedg- 
wick now — right now, while I have my hat on — 
and be reasonable? Decide at once. I shall leave 
town to-morrow morning unless you make it worth 
while for me to remain.” 

“Very well, come along. We can catch a train 
if we hurry that will take us there quickly — an ex- 
press. I can’t decide until I see the old fellow, 
whether he is hurt, and if so, how much.” 

“Then let’s go at once,” said Emalene, catching 
up her sunshade. “You’ll find I have spoken the 
truth. In consenting to go I’m doing what I said 
I would not do, because I’m convinced that once 
you see that poor man you’ll be sorry for your con- 
duct, and feel impelled to make amends for it.” 

They were soon on the train, Emalene having 
countermanded by telephone the order to take her 
trunk to the station. They stopped at the village 
next to Sedgwick on the line, as their train, being 
an express, did not stop at all stations. In a 
“buggy” hired at a livery, they drove to the farm. 

Cousin Jim, bandaged, apparently, by a prac- 
tised hand, as to those portions of his physical 
being commonly visible to the eye, sat on his little 
porch, with the affectionate mongrel at his feet. 
These feet, guiltless of hosiery, were encased in the 
russet shoes, still without fastenings. He was as 
collarless, cravatless, and suspenderless as when 
separately visited by the two women who now ap- 
peared together. He was drowsing the time away 


172 


FEMININE FINANCE 


in the shade, when, hearing the murmur of feminine 
voices, he raised his eyes to behold at the gate the 
buggy and the two women who had just alighted 
therefrom. The larger woman at the instant of 
his first glance, was fastening the halter to the 
hitching-post outside the fence, while the smaller, 
whom he recognized as his visitor of the previous 
day, made eager and frequent little jumps to eke 
out her stature in the effort she was making to keep 
the flies from the horse’s spine with a tiny handker- 
chief which she fluttered swiftly about the tall beast. 
Cousin Jim smiled in spite of himself at her eager- 
ness. So occupied was he for a moment in watch- 
ing her, that he failed to recognize her companion, 
Louise’s costume differing in every particular from 
that which she had worn on her former visit. After 
hitching the horse the women turned in at the gate 
to approach the house, when Louise’s identity 
flashed upon Cousin Jim. Instantly he straighten- 
ed up, opened the door leading into the house and 
disappeared therein, though not quickly enough to 
avoid being seen by the two visitors, who advanced 
slowly toward the house and knocked at the door. 
Receiving no answer, Emalene knocked again, with 
the same result. Everything was still save for the 
weak chirpings of the half-grown chickens, as they 
legged about in the tall grass; the duckings and 
cacklings of the old ones, and the delicious notes 
of a bird that had perched on the fence near the 
gate. They waited so long without response to 
their second knock that Louise whispered crossly : 


FEMININE FINANCE 


173 


“This is most trying! I wonder just what such 
a person thinks of himself — everything deserted, 
nobody about ” 

“S — sh,” whispered her companion; “he might 
hear you. Don’t let’s offend him in any way. I’ll 
knock again.” 

This she did. Receiving no reply, she called out : 
“Mr. Holliday, please come out. We know you’re 
in — we saw you. We want to know what we can 
do for you. We’re here on the porch and know 
you’ve heard our knocks. You’re not treating us 
politely.” She waited a second or two, and was 
then rewarded by the sound of shuffling footsteps 
on the bare floor within. 

Louise, warned by the footsteps, supposed herself 
warranted in assuming that Cousin Jim’s manly 
pulchritude was about to burst on her view, and 
straightened herself with a look of great dignity, 
to meet him. She need not, however, haye assumed 
the virtue which she had not, for Cousin Jim 
stopped inside the door and called out, unseen : 

“I’ve been told not to have anything to say to 
that — that — one — that w r as here day before yester- 
day. My lawyer’ll give me the dickens if I talk to 
her. Tell her to go away, an’ I’ll come out and 
talk to you all right, Miss — I forget your name.” 

“I’m Miss Carruthers, Come out, and you can 
do all the talking to me, and Miss Anstey can lis- 
ten.” 

“No. I want her to go away. What did she come 


174 


FEMININE FINANCE 


here for anyway? I’d ’a’ thought you’d ’a’ come 
alone.” 

“I’ve nothing to do with the case except as a 
friend of all the parties to it; and I can’t be run- 
ning up and down on the train carrying messages 
— we’d never get anywhere that way. I want you 
and Miss Anstey to talk together and settle this 
thing. Come out; let’s sit down and take it by 
the horns.” 

“Tell her to go down to the road and w r ait till 
we call her. I’d rather talk to you without her 
lookin’ at me.” 

“She’ll go if that will satisfy you ; but it will not 
satisfy me except for a short time, because I want 
her to hear w 7 hat you say and you to hear what 
she says — can’t you see that it’s best?” 

Motioning to Louise — w hose self-esteem was in 
nowise puffed up by Cousin Jim’s references to 
herself — to go to the gate and w r ait, Emalene called 
out as she started : 

“Now, Mr. Holliday, come out and tell me how 
you’re getting on. Miss Anstey is going dow 7 n to 
the gate and w T ill sit in the buggy till we call her.” 

Thereupon Cousin Jim issued forth — not boldly 
and at once, but gradually, his bandaged head ap- 
pearing first, cautiously, with a furtive look about 
the porch and tow T ard the gate. Keassured by the 
sight of his whilom antagonist climbing into the 
buggy, he advanced one of the russet-shod feet 
timorously, and seeing Emalene’s cordial smile, 
came w r holly forth to extend his hand and inquire : 


FEMININE FINANCE 175 

“How-d’-y’-do? Glad to see you. You look all 
right.” 

“I am, thank you. Are you? I see you have on 
fresh bandages.” 

“Yes, the doctor done me up in ’em. I couldn’t 
do it right. He says I’m hurt bad — not outward, 
mind you, though I’m bad enough that way, too — 
but internal — he says it’s awful ; that I might never 
get over it and be able to work right again.” 

“I wish Miss Anstey could hear you say that — 
just let me call her. It isn’t serving her right not 
to let her know all the facts. Better let me call 
her now ” 

“No, don’t! I hate her so I can’t bear to look at 
her ! Let her be where she is, an’ me and you set 
and talk together.” 

“There isn’t time for me to go over it all with 
you and then repeat it to her. We three must talk 
together if we’re to accomplish anything.” 

“Well, I hate to say it, but she’s such a darned 
little devil, I — I — see what she done t’ me already. 
I’m afraid of her.” 

“But I won’t let her hurt you — she won’t hurt 
anyone when I’m around.” The humor of this re- 
mark was enhanced by her entire unconsciousness 
of it, and was worthy of a better audience than 
Cousin Jim. 

“Sure, now?” he asked, moving uneasily in his 
chair. 

“Let’s get another chair, and then I’ll call her 
— don’t rise, I’ll fetch it,” said Emalene. She start- 


176 


FEMININE FINANCE 


ed to open the door, and Cousin Jim, in some em- 
barrassment, half rose to get the chair himself. 
Whether from stiffness resulting from his bruises 
and general shake-up, or inability to resist her 
gentle and natural forcefulness, he sank back, say- 
ing “All right,” as she entered the house. 

The room which she entered was, apparently, 
Cousin Jim’s bedroom and living-room. Its fur- 
nishings were few and rickety. The bed, which was 
disarranged, a bureau with a cracked mirror, a 
table, two or three chairs, and a small, rusty sheet- 
iron stove were all the room contained. Its whole 
aspect was cheerless and unkempt. All this Ema- 
lene took in at a glance, and returned to the porch 
in a twinkling with one of the chairs. As she 
placed it in an easy conversational position with 
relation to her own and Cousin Jim’s, she said : 

“Now I’ll call Miss Anstey.” She inflated her 
lungs to do so, when Cousin Jim, looking sheepish- 
ly timid, said, in an evident desire to put off the 
evil moment as long as possible: 

“I wish’t it hadn’t to be now.” 

“But we can’t afford to waste any time.” Step- 
ping to the railing of the porch she called : “Come 
now, Louise. We must all talk together.” 

Secretly she was glad that Cousin Jim’s attitude 
toward Louise at the beginning of this interview 
had manifested itself in making her wait to be 
called or spoken to. She hoped, and believed, it 
might have the effect of chastening her spirit some- 
what, 


FEMININE FINANCE 


177 


As Louise stepped upon the porch, Emalene, as 
Mistress of Ceremonies, said in her most beguiling 
tones : 

“Sit here, Miss Anstey. Mr. Holliday consented 
that I should call you because I convinced him we 
could accomplish more by talking together. Now, 
Mr. Holliday, please tell Miss Anstey just what 
your physician said of your injuries at her hands.” 

“He comes here,” began Cousin Jim, “yesterday 
afternoon — I sent for ’im by one of the neighbors — 
an’ he bandaged me all up — you can’t see all the 
bandages I got on me — they’re on my legs an’ the 
upper part o’ my arms; an’ I got a plaster on my 
back where she hit me a crack with one o’ them 
jagged ones, an’ a porous-plaster besides.” He ad- 
dressed all this to Emalene and continued address- 
ing her : “An’ Doc, he says to me, says he : ‘Look 
a-here, Holliday, the feller that licked you’ — mind 
you, I didn’t tell him it was a woman; I was 
ashamed, an’ all I wanted him to know then was 
how many bad places they was, an’ how bad they 
was. ‘Yes,’ says he, ‘the feller that done it done 
a good job. By George, you look as though a sau- 
sage machine had been at you; you’re awful bad 
off. I don’t see how you can get out o’ bed.’ An’ 
I says: ‘I got to get out o’ bed, I’m a poor man; 
I got to work for my livin’ — they ain’t anybody 
goin’ to do it for me.’ An’ he says : ‘Your inter- 
nals is all churned up fearful by that fall’ — you 
see I told him I’d been throwed by the other feller 
— ‘so’s you might never be able to work good.’ ” 


178 


FEMININE FINANCE 


Cousin Jim in all his long life had never been able 
to “work good/’ but this was an unrelated detail. 
His allusions to the “feller” made a strong appeal 
to Emalene’s risibilities. However, she resisted the 
impulse to laugh and succeeded in looking as dig- 
nified and serious as befitted the occasion, gazing 
off toward the road where the waiting horse — the 
thud of whose feet could be heard during the 
pauses of the conversation— was stamping and 
quivering in an ineffectual attempt to rid himself 
of the tormenting flies. 

“You see, Miss Anstey, Mr. Holliday’s injuries, 
such as we can see of them, are very disfiguring. 
His future usefulness might be impaired,” said 
Emalene. Cousin Jim’s eye really looked worse 
than it did the day previous. “What have you to 
say?” she continued, addressing Louise. “Do you 
acknowledge that the condition in which you find 
him is the result of your maltreatment?” 

Louise heartily wished Emalene would assume 
less dignity and priggishness. Why couldn’t she 
be natural? She felt inclined to brush the whole 
thing aside as a farce. Yet there was Cousin Jim, 
his head and cheek and neck swathed in bandages, 
and one eye decidedly what is known as “black.” 
To Emalene’s questions she replied coldly, with a 
smile that seemed but the straining of the muscles 
of the lips : 

“Bandages do not necessarily imply hurts. How 
am I know whether or not Mr. Holliday is 
bruised beneath all that gauze we see wound about 


FEMININE FINANCE 


179 


him? But even admitting that he is bruised, I 
do not acknowledge that I am responsible for the 
condition in which he finds himself !” 

“Look a-here then, who is?” 

“I couldn’t tell you, sir. I have no means of 
knowing how you spend your time, or with whom. 
A thousand things might have happened to you 
since my short interview with you.” 

“Do you mean to say that somebody else gimme 
this here black eye, an’ this bruise on my cheek 
an’ forehead, an’ all them on my legs an’ arms an’ 
back ?” 

“That will do,” Louise interrupted. “Some other 
person to whom you owe money you wouldn’t pay 
might have come here since I saw you and treated 
you to a course of what you need ” 

“Louise!” cried Emalene; and Louise kept silent, 
while Cousin Jim, addressing Emalene, said: 

“Now, Miss — you see what I meant by the way 
she tackled me? How’s any livin’ man — or woman 
either— goin’ to put up with anybody like that?” 

Without waiting for Emalene to reply he turned 
to Louise, saying: 

“Witnesses or no witnesses, my lawyer’ll give 
you a pretty chance to prove that you didn’t gimme 
a heatin’.” 

“No reputable lawyer would take the case on 
your statement that I came to your house and did 
you bodily harm. You’d get yourself well laughed 
at for nothing — you’d not hurt me because there 


180 


FEMININE FINANCE 


were no witnesses and no one would believe your 
unsupported statement.” 

Turning to Emalene, he said: Miss ” 

“Carruthers,” prompted Emalene. 

“Miss Carruthers, I told you what she done to 
me. What did she tell you — what’s her side o’ 
the story?” 

“She corroborated all that you said. I told her 
that I had done you the injustice of doubting your 
statement as to her treatment of you when you made 
it to me, but that her own words confirmed yours.” 

“Then, Miss Carruthers, you’re my witness. Not 
an eye-witness, to be sure ; but I think I know where 
I might even get an eye-witness.” 

“Where?” asked Louise with some eagerness. 

“Never you mind! But at the right time an’ 
place, I guess there’ll be no trouble about showin’ 
you up all right as a spitfire ” 

“S — sh !” Emalene interrupted. “This is terrible ! 
I feel as though I were being prodded with red- 
hot crow-bars, hearing two people quarreling so, 
and about such a thing.” 

“But Miss Louise J. Anstey of No. — West 
Ninth Street, New York, will have papers served 
on her, and be given a fine opportunity to show a 
court in her native State how much of a lady she 
is, an’ if she’s able to plank down a check for ten 
thousand dollars.” 

“You said you were going to sue for five thou- 
sand,” said Emalene. 

“Yes, but when I told you that, I hadn’t seen 


FEMININE FINANCE 


181 


the doctor and the lawyer. My lawyer knows about 
the Ansteys ; he says they was highly respectable — 
her father an’ mother an’ cousins,” 

“Kespectable !” said Louise, with a shrug ex- 
pressive of the scorn in which she held the opinion 
of her antagonist and that of any lawyer whom he 
might retain. Addressing Emalene, she said : “The 
lawyer who would be retained by him, who would 
undertake his case, would by doing so proclaim him- 
self a disreputable pettifogger, whose professional 
brethren would hold him in contempt!” To 
Cousin Jim she again addressed herself, saying: 
“You can as well sue for ten thousand as for ten 
dollars; you’ll get nothing but ridicule for the at- 
tempt.” 

“What do you think you’ll get?” asked Cousin 
Jim. “Yes,” he continued, addressing Emalene, 
“he said her folks was very respectable.” 

“Thank you,” said Louise, bowing with mock 
humility. 

“This will never do,” said Emalene. “This whole 
thing is assuming a childish aspect and the object 
of our visit is being lost sight of entirely. Let’s stick 
to the point! Now, Mr. Holliday, your cousin, Gus- 
sie Holliday, gave you five hundred dollars, and as 
security for that sum you gave her a note which, at 
maturity, you did not — said you could not — pay.” 

“Lord knows I couldn’t,” he interrupted. “I wish 
I could ’a’ done it; it’d a’ been a good job for me to 
’a’ paid the money. I’d not ’a’ given it to this— 
Miss Anstey— but I’d ’a’ gone right to Tilly in New 


182 


FEMININE FINANCE 


York an’ paid it if I’d ’a’ had the money the day 
the note come due. But just because I didn’t have 
it, I get stone-bruises all over me.” 

“Be quiet, instantly!” said Louise, threateningly. 
“You’re disgusting ” 

“Louise!” cried Emalene again. “How can you? 
Pray restrain yourself ” 

“She restrain herself! Not much! She wants her 
own way! An’ she’s goin’ t’ get it, too, or know 
why, and make others know why, too. The world 
was made for her, an’ anybody that interferes with 
he’s goin’ t’ get hit one way or another, sure!” 
said Cousin Jim, his fat voice raised excitedly. 

“Don’t, Mr. Holliday!” said Emalene. “This is 
terrible !” 

“I didn’t stone you,” said Louise, “because you 
hadn’t the money, but because you doubted my 
word and spoke as you shouldn’t have spoken to 
me — called me ‘slick’ and said you didn’t believe 
your cousin sent me to you, or that I was a proper 
person to receive the money, and intimated that I 
had come into possession of the note dishonest- 
ly ” 

“There, now! You confessed in the presence of 
a witness that you hurt me and what you done it 
for. Under the circumstances, as my lawyer says, 
I was justified in refusin’ to give you th’ money, an’ 
sayin’ what I did. I got on the gate : post to get 
rid o’ you peaceful; but no, you come an’ pitch 
into me with stones, and jerk me down to the 
ground — why, my lawyer says when I told him 


FEMININE FINANCE 


183 


about it, says he : ‘You’re mighty lucky to get off 
as easy as you did. Next time you see any woman 
that looks like that a-comin’ along the road, you 
run to the barn an’ hide the pitchfork, or hide your- 
self in the haymow with it. What if she’d ’a’ got 
hold o’ the pitchfork? What’d you ’a’ looked like, 
and where’d you ’a’ been?’ ” 

While Cousin Jim thus delivered himself the two 
women exchanged glances, and when he finished, 
Emalene said : 

“Mr. Holliday, I want you to abandon the idea 
of bringing suit. Let us talk seriously.” 

“Ain’t I talkin’ seriously, Miss Carruthers? I 
never was more so in my life. I feel serious, I do ; 
an’ I ain’t never said a word but what’s th’ truth.” 

“Then you really have seen a lawyer?” 

“Yes, this mornin’ early. He come here. I had 
a neighbor telephone t’ Bridgeport, an’ he come 
down. I thought if you was cornin’ you’d come 
early, an’ I kind o’ hoped you’d come while he was 
here. He says I got a good case, and he’ll see me 
through it.” 

“I hoped you’d wait to see me.” 

“You remember I didn’t promise. But it 
wouldn’t have made any difference. I’d ’a’ brought 
the suit anyway; an’ you an’ the doctor’ll be wit- 
nesses enough for my purpose.” 

“It isn’t too late now to call off the suit if Miss 
Anstey will pay you a reasonable sum. What 
would you consider a reasonable sum?” 


184 FEMININE FINANCE 

“Ten thousand dollars, cash down ! Not a cent 
less !” 

“Preposterous!” exclaimed Louise. 

“Would you not consider taking back that note 
in your cousin’s favor that you gave me for her 
yesterday, and for it giving Miss Anstey a waiver 
of all claims against her for the injuries inflicted 
on you by her?” 

“Lordamighty, Miss Carruthers ! Take back that 
note !” 

“Your cousin is in distress and Miss Anstey and 
I are trying to do all we can for her. Your fail- 
ure to pay the five hundred dollars to Miss Anstey 
or to me when we called here for it — the money you 
had of her and spent — is working her a great hard- 
ship, causing her great distress. And I propose 
that if Miss Anstey will pay to your Cousin Gus- 
sie the sum for which your note is written, take 
the note from her and return it to you, you waive 
all claims against Miss Anstey ” 

“Not on your sweet life ! Me, Jim Holliday, after 
she’s treated me as she has? I’m sorry for Gussie. 
Her an’ me ain’t always been such good friends, 
but she did gimme that five hundred — an’ that ain’t 
all : she’s give me money more’n once when I w r as 
in a hole, an’ never asked it back, an’ I never could 
pay it back. My golly, I’d like to do somethin’ for 
her !” He looked meditatively off toward the road, 
unconsciously rubbing his arm. “I don’t know 
what I could do to raise th’ money. You say she 
needs it right off?” 


FEMININE FINANCE 


185 


“She must have money quickly, and it will have 
to be about five hundred dollars. I haven’t got it 
or I’d give it to her. I don’t own five hundred dol- 
lars’ worth of anything in this world. If I did, I’d 
sell it and give her the money — I really would.” 

“How long you known Gussie?” asked he, look- 
ing at her with scrutiny. 

“I never saw her until the morning that Miss 
Anstey came here with the note; but I’ve read about 
her in the papers.” 

“You know about her, then, do you?” 

“Yes,” she said frankly, “I do in a general way. 
I’m sorry for her, very — not alone for her present 
trouble, but because her whole life seems to have 
been misguided. Really, don’t you know about her 
present trouble?” 

“I don’t know — I don’t want to know anything 
about any new mess she may be in — but I’d like t’ 
help her. I ought to, seems like, ’cause she’s helped 
me so many times. I ain’t never had any chance 
before to help her — I ain’t had anythin’ to help 
her with. But now I’ve got this little farm, an’ 
I don’t owe a cent on it or to anybody but that 
five hundred to her. I wonder if I could mortgage 
th’ farm an’ raise the money. If I wasn’t so stiff 
an’ so darned sore with stone-bruises, I’d hook up 
and drive to town an’ see what I could do.” 

“But,” said Emalene, “if you’d accede to my 
proposition, you’d not have to move out of your 
chair to secure the money for Gussie. Why not write 
a waiver — or let me do it for you on your table in 


186 


FEMININE FINANCE 


there — I know how” — nodding toward Cousin Jim’s 
room — “in favor of Miss Anstey, of all claims 
against her. Gussie would endorse the note and 
give it to Miss Anstey, and Miss Anstey would give 
Gussie the five hundred dollars and return your 
note to you ! Don’t you see how beautifully it will 
all dovetail? Miss Anstey wants the waiver, Gussie 
wants the money, and you want her to have the 
money and free yourself from debt, and I want all 
three of you people to get what you want and be 
happy. Then you’ll have your farm clear, pay your 
debt by doing your cousin a great kindness, and 
Miss Anstey one at the same time. Don’t you see 
how fine it will be?” She w T as smiling at what she 
thought a happy issue out of the distresses of the 
trio most interested in this affair, while her com- 
panions reflectively and respectively regarded — 
Louise, the toe of her own boot, and Cousin Jim 
his thumbs, which he rapidly twiddled. A moment 
after Emalene ceased speaking, Louise broke the 
silence to observe coldly : 

“Emalene, you’re taking a great deal for granted. 
I shall make no such use of my money.” 

As though she had received a blow in the face, 
Emalene caught her breath, and turning toward 
Louise said soberly: 

“Then I’m powerless to help you, or the other 
two; and I don’t see that there’s anything further 
for me to say.” 

“Lordamighty !” said Cousin Jim. “I was about 
to let my old hide an’ bones an’ giblets go, an’ let 


FEMININE FINANCE 


187 


the lawsuit slide for the sake o’ helpin’ Gussie, as 
long as she wants the money. But I’ll be hanged 
if I’ll do it now ! By ginger, I’d not take ten thou- 
sand dollars cash to stop that suit now ! I’m bound 
it’ll go to trial if I have to give up my farm — all I 
got in the world — to pay my lawyer. I’m sorry I 
can’t give Tilly th’ money now ; but if I win out in 
this, suit, an’ I’m sure I will, I’ll make it up to her 
— I’ll give her a thousand for her five hundred, for 
keepin’ her waitin’. I ain’t anythin’ more t’ say. 
I’d see you to your carriage, Miss Carruthers, but 
I’m too sick an’ tired. I got to lay down.” 

Louise made as though to speak to Emalene ; but 
that young woman had already left the porch and 
was well on her way to the gate. Turning, she 
called back to Cousin Jim : “Good-bye, Mr. Holli- 
day.” 

“Good-bye,” he responded. 


CHAPTER XIV 


When Louise reached the gate, Emalene stood, 
reins in hand, and allowed her friend to enter the 
vehicle; then she followed, seating herself in a 
silence that was ominous. 

A cluck from Louise and “giddap” from Ema- 
lene started the horse, “kind, gentle and true,” as 
his owner warranted, who took his way oatward 
blithely. The women sat silently behind him for 
some distance, and then Louise said : 

“I suppose you’ll leave town in the morning.” 

“I shouldn’t think that a level-headed, astute 
woman such as you would ever again speak to one 
that has proved herself such a flat as I have by 
coming up here with you to-day! If you are not 
disgusted with me, I am with myself. Do you 
imagine that if I hadn’t been positive that the sight 
of Cousin Jim would melt your stony-heartedness 
and impel you to be kind and reasonable, I’d have 
spent the time this way? I think my perceptions 
are failing — I wonder if it’s dotage or just plain 
idiocy.” 

“My stony-heartedness, as you are pleased to call 
it — thank you for your frankness — is just what en- 
ables me to live decently and not like a beg ” 

188 


FEMININE FINANCE 


189 


“Don’t hesitate, say it, ‘like a beggar.’ I don’t 
mind! Seventy times seven is very comforting to 
say to oneself. I’ve said it to myself a good many 
times in thinking of yon, Louise, especially during 
the past few days. It helps one to what I very 
much need — patience.” 

“To be exercised toward me?” 

“Yes, Louise, you and others.” 

“I thank you very much ; but you’re under no ne- 
cessity to so condescend. I think I’m the patient 
one! Patience, indeed! Because, forsooth, I de- 
cline to give money to people who have no earthly 
claim upon me — literally throw it away on a worth- 
less man and still more worthless woman ! I have 
other uses for my money.” 

“They have a claim on you as members of the 
human family; besides, the man has a legal claim 
upon you which you cannot ignore ; and what better 
use have you for your money?” 

“Well — plenty of uses.” 

“Do you intend so to use it?” 

“Of one thing you may be sure, and that is — 
I’m not going to foster wrong-doing with it.” 

“It’s a pity people fear wrong-doing so much and 
give so little attention to right-doing. I know you’ll 
call this one of my platitudes, but if I thought 
you’d make a better use of this same amount of 
money, I wouldn’t want you to give it to Tilly. But 
I believe Tilly’s case is your opportunity, Louise. 
You’ve got the money and this is your chance to 
risk some of it, invest it in kindness to an unfortu- 


190 


FEMININE FINANCE 


nate woman. Money that’s simply allowed to 
gather volume by turning and turning, and is never 
used, but hoarded, shrivels the soul of its posses- 
sor.” 

“You are not far behind me in frankness! But to 
bank is never unused. It’s always doing some one 
good — furthering great enterprises, building hospi- 
tals, railroads, universities, and, incidentally, earn- 
ing something for its possessor. I take great com- 
fort in that — I mean in the fact that my money in 
the various trust companies and savings banks and 
that sort of thing is never idle. In that way I do 
a great deal of good with it, which I think I prefer 
to going about doling out a few dollars here and 
there, and making myself a nuisance as some do, 
trying to attend to the affairs of others while their 
own are at loose ends.” 

“You are not far behind me in frankness. But to 
exercise perfect frankness, on occasions, is the 
privilege, possibly the duty, of a true friend. Your 
dissertation on finance has certainly the virtue of 
originality.” 

“Which of the poets was it that prayed to be 
delivered from a candid friend?” asked Louise. 

“As I often have when smarting — yes, smarting — 
under your criticisms of me for deeds whose mo- 
tives you were incompetent to sit in judgment upon. 
Remember, Louise, that of the thousands of times 
you have criticised me — to the point of indelicacy, 
and in all sorts of ways — this is the first time that 
I have returned evil for evil. If I’ve ever made my- 


FEMININE FINANCE 


191 


self a nuisance to you, I beg your forgiveness for 
it now. But while the opportunity lasts — I hope 
never to have another such — I want to remind you 
that I have never asked you for a cent in any cause, 
nor even accepted one from you, because you never 
offered one, though I have many times hoped you 
would. I also want to say that I’ve studied in my 
intercourse with you to avoid unnecessary allusions 
to crying needs that were filling my mind, which 
you might easily have relieved, had I not preferred 
to let them go unrelieved rather than risk your re- 
fusal.” 

“I admit I’ve criticized you a good deal, as you 
say, for conduct which, I am proud and happy to 
say, I never understood — shall never understand; 
for being friends with all sorts and conditions of 
people, making sacrifices for them, giving them 
your money while you go without necessities, let- 
ting them use you! My criticism has been in the 
nature of an attempt to save you from yourself.” 

“I’ve never gone without necessities. I have 
never lacked any good thing — there’s the definition 
again! But do you realize that we’re quarreling? 
Actually quarreling after ten years as friends? And 
why?” 

“Because yoij want me to further the cause of 
iniquity by making a money contribution to that 
which I know would be ” 

“ ‘Still harping !’ Polonius himself would have 
blushed before you and hung up his instru- 
ment ! You don’t seem to be able to separate your- 


192 


FEMININE FINANCE 


self long enough from the idea that I am trying to 
wrest from yon a small amount of money, to con- 
template the possibility — as things look now, the 
probability — of having to separate yourself from a 
much larger sum, in addition to being dragged 
through the mire of a lawsuit with a man of Cousin 
Jim’s calibre. That’s what I’ve been trying to save 
you from ; but you’ve had your mind’s eye so stead- 
ily fixed on what is to you a mere bagatelle, that 
you’re blind to the contingency of paying a much 
larger sum, and the certainty of great humiliation 
if the action is brought.” 

“You seem to think five hundred dollars a mere 
trifle — it’s a lot of money.” 

“Depending entirely on one’s valuation. It’s 
more than I ever had at one time in my life; but 
you wouldn’t hesitate to spend it for a ring or a 
pin, a picture or any other thing you might hap- 
pen to see and fancy ; and you’d have to deny your- 
self nothing, no necessity, no luxury, for parting 
with this sum in helping Tilly. No woman who 
doesn’t need to save her money ever had a better 
chance to spend some of it.” 

“As the advocate of an unworthy cause, you 
grow more and more eloquent.” 

“I’m advocating your cause — not my own. I’ve 
nothing to gain by your giving Tilly that money, 
or lose if you withhold it! Primarily I’m advo- 
cating your interests by telling you that you’re 
standing in your own light. I can’t advocate Jim’s 
cause, nor Tilly’s, as I do, without serving you more 


FEMININE FINANCE 


193 


than I do either of them, because, can’t you see, 
that if Cousin Jim accepts the return of that note, 
and executes that waiver, he gets nothing? He 
has already had and spent the five hundred dollars ; 
and Tilly simply gets back what belongs to her, 
and makes nothing ; while you probably save 
four thousand five hundred dollars, and get be- 
sides, what one would imagine you’d value most of 
all — immunity from the humiliation of the suit 
and its attendant publicity.” 

They had talked rapidly, and by this time had 
not accomplished half the distance toward the vil- 
lage. The horse, after the manner of horses travel- 
ing homeward, went joyously. A moment or two 
after Emalene’s last words, Louise, who had been 
gazing steadily before her between the nag’s ears, 
apparently absorbed in thought, pulled him up vig- 
orously. The beast stopped suddenly, and looked 
around as if wondering which of the fool women 
behind him it was that had no more sense than to 
pull so on a horse’s mouth when he had it all fixed 
for oats. 

Emalene silently looked steadily forward at the 
hot, white road. She asked no explanation of the 
stop, as Louise, apparently, hoped she would. See- 
ing that she would break silence for nothing less 
than a direct verbal appeal, Louise asked : 

“Will you return to Cousin Jim’s with me?” 

“What will be accomplished thereby? Another 
fiasco?” 

“Please do come back with me ! You’ve present- 


194 


FEMININE FINANCE 


ed the matter this time in a better, a clearer light 
— why didn’t ‘you say it all in this same way be- 
fore?” 

“I’ve gone over the thing again and again until 
I should think you’d be sick of hearing me. I can’t 
see that I’ve varied the recital in any particu- 
lar ” 

“But as you put it just now it sounded so con- 
vincing, Emalene.” 

“It’s the fear of Cousin Jim’s suit that is finally 
dawning on you — appreciation of what it implies — 
and, I believe, the conviction that he will win. At 
any rate the airing you’ll get in the court will not 
redound to your self-esteem nor the esteem in which 
your friends hold you. This sounds harsh, but it’s 
true. I’d rather you did whatever you do, out of 
love for humanity than fear of law courts; of pity 
for Cousin Jim’s ignorance of a better way of life, 
contrition for what you did to him, and out of kind- 
ness toward Tilly. You ought to think of Cousin 
Jim as did the coal-dealer of some heavers whom 
he had sent to a lady with a load of coal, and of 
whose impertinence she complained. ‘Madam,’ said 
he, ‘we have failed in our endeavors to get pol- 
ished gentlemen to undertake the work.’ If Cousin 
Jim had been a perfect gentleman he wouldn’t have 
treated you as he did; wouldn’t have taken the 
money from Tilly, or having taken it, would have 
paid it when you went to him properly accredited. 
But, further, were you the woman you should be, 
you wouldn’t have acted as you did toward him 


FEMININE FINANCE 


195 


and wouldn’t be in your present position with re- 
lation to him. The more* I think of it, particularly 
since I’ve seen how badly off that old man is, the 
more awful your conduct seems to me. I can’t get 
over your going to his house in the capacity of a 
simple messenger, to do something the success or 
failure of which could affect you but slightly, and 
punishing him until he looks as though he had been 
in the prize-ring.” She was perfectly serious. 

“Let’s turn and go back,” said Louise, quietly. 

“If you want to return, I think I’ll ask you to let 
me out here and I’ll walk on to the village and take 
the next train to town. I need all the time there 
is and can’t afford to waste any more to-day.” 

“Oh, come along, Emalene,” said Louise, turning 
the horse in the road. That sage beast, as he 
turned, reflected on the mutability of things, the 
uncertainty of women in general, and oats in par- 
ticular. Musing thus he stopped. Seeing her op- 
portunity, Emalene bounded out of the buggy, 
reaching back into it for her sunshade. She was 
out so quickly that Louise scarcely realized what 
had happened. 

“Wait! Aren’t you going to return with me?” 
she cried. 

“I’ve already done all that I can. I haven’t a 
word to say or a suggestion to offer that I haven’t 
already said and offered. I’ve told it all over and 
over until I imagine I shall say it in my sleep. 
You wouldn’t come earlier this morning, when by 
so doing we might have prevented Cousin Jim’s 


196 


FEMININE FINANCE 


imparting what he did — your name and the details 
of this affair — to his lawyer. Now, after wasting 
your time and mine and antagonizing Cousin Jim, 
whom I had placated to the point of accepting the 
only proposition I am able to think of as feasible, 
and which would have been a good thing for all; 
after declining to accede to such a plan, and put- 
ting me in the position of a fool and a meddler, 
you want me to go back ! What for?” 

“Just so I won’t be alone with Cousin Jim.” 

“Don’t fear that he’ll harm you as you did him. 
He mayn’t be very elegant, even very moral, but 
he’s too kind, his instincts are too good.” 

Louise thought Emalene unnecessarily sharp- 
tongued and wondered that she had always believed 
her so gentle. “Come along,” said she; “hop back 
in here, and go back to the farm, so that at least I 
may have a witness to what occurs. You might 
do this for me since you say yourself you’ll appear 
for Cousin Jim as a witness.” 

“What do you propose to do?” 

“I want to see how he takes my return and if 
he’ll ‘give in.’ ” 

“Give in to what? If I am competent to judge, 
you may as well stay away from him. He was ap- 
palled by your stony-heartedness when you declined 
to give Tilly the money.” 

“Come, get in. You can’t do anything with the 
time left of to-day, and your packing’s practically 
done. Come along,” coaxed Louise. “You may as 
well have company on the train to town, and I too,” 


FEMININE FINANCE 


197 


“Understand that if I go back I’m to do no 
talking. I’m through talking, and shall go simply 
as an onlooker,” said Emalene, climbing in. 

“Very well; now we’re off,” said Louise, cheer- 
fully, while the horse, to whom she took the whip 
gently, moved as though his feet were leaden. 

They talked but little during the return to 
Cousin Jim’s. Arrived there, Emalene sat quietly 
in the buggy while Louise alighted. Astonished 
at her friend’s apparent intention to remain seated, 
Louise asked: 

“Aren’t you going to get out?” 

“Do you want me to?” 

“Yes; how else could you hear what he may say 
to me and I to him?” 

Emalene stepped out and hitched the horse. On 
the way to the house she persisted in keeping in the 
rear of Louise, who apparently imagined she would 
take the lead. Arrived at the porch, Louise turned 
to her, saying: 

“I suppose there’s no use to knock — call him.” 

“No, thank you. I’m here simply as a witness! 
You will have to conduct this interview in your 
own way.” And she could not resist adding : “If 
it gets too furious I may have to take to the tree- 
tops.” 

Taking no notice of this rather ill-timed pleas- 
antry, Louise said : “You might at least call him, 
or knock. Or I’ll knock while you call.” 

“No, Louise, you’ll do all that is done,” said she, 
seating herself in one of the three chairs which 


198 


FEMININE FINANCE 


still stood on the little porch. Louise regarded 
her in astonishment. “There’s no use being stub- 
born, Emalene!” 

Emalene remained silent, looking off toward the 
road. Finally convinced that Emalene meant to 
keep to her determination, Louise knocked loudly 
and sharply. Receiving no response, she again tried 
to persuade Emalene to lift up her voice in en- 
treaty to Cousin Jim, saying : 

“Now I’ve knocked; you call out to him, please. 
If he hears my voice he won’t come.” 

“His coming or not is a matter in which I am 
not interested. I don’t want him to come out. 
You do. Call him.” 

“But he won’t come for me.” 

“Try him.” 

Louise inflated her lungs and called out : “Come 
out, Mr. Holliday, we have returned and want to 
see you again.” 

“You’d better go home! Go right along out o’ 
my yard,” came in Cousin Jim’s fat voice. 

“It will be to your interest to come out and let 
us have a further talk about this matter. I’ve re- 
considered.” 

“You’re too late in the day. You’d ought to 
spoke sooner when you had a mighty good chance. 
Now you get along! I made a darned fool o’ my- 
self talkin’ to you at all; an’ my lawyer’ll gimme 
the dickens for it. I didn’t do it for your sake, 
though, I want you to understand that right now. 
I did it for Miss Emilyne Carruthers — I wouldn’t 


! FEMININE FINANCE 199 

show her no disrespect. But you go and go quick, 
I tell you ! You hear me?” 

“Don’t be so unreasonable. It was your un- 
reasonableness that proved so disastrous before. 
You were not nice to me ” 

“Oh, dry up ! You make me tired with your ever- 
lastin’ harpin’ on everybody’s unreasonableness 
but your own. I never see a disposition like yours. 
I’ve found out now that you ain’t got a husband, 
and Lord knows I don’t wonder; you’d ’a’ clawed 
his eyes out before the engagement ring was on your 
finger if any man ’d ever been silly enough to ask 
you.” 

All this was said with Cousin Jim standing in- 
visible just inside the door, which he had opened an 
inch. At his last remark, Louise turned to Ema- 
lene, saying: 

“Now this, Emalene, is a specimen of what I 
put up with when I came up here and stoned him. 
Do you wonder I did?” 

Emalene had preserved a complete silence, and 
as Cousin Jim could not see her, he apparently dis- 
believed that she was there, as he said : 

“You can’t bluff me. Miss Carruthers ain’t there. 
You’re too smart ” 

“See, Emalene, he doubts my word in even so 
small a thing as that.” 

Still Emalene was calmly silent. Louise was in 
despair and rage. Emalene had never before seen 
her so, nor would have imagined she could get in so 
infuriated a state. 


200 


FEMININE FINANCE 


“Why don’t you speak to me, Emalene? How 
dare you sit there silent and let this horrid man 
assume that I’m lying?” 

“I told you that I would return here only as a 
spectator. I have nothing to say.” 

“Now there, Miss Carruthers, didn’t I tell you 
when you said she had a good disposition, that it 
was because nothin’ had been done to rumple it? 
That like a good many others, she gets credit for 
havin’ a good one only because everybody’s watchin’ 
out all the time when she’s around?” 

Emalene made no reply to him. To Louise she 
said : “What is it you expect to accomplish here? 
May we not as well go home?” 

“No. I want him to come out ” 

“I’ve told you before, Miss Anstey, that I want 
you to go out o’ my yard — off my premises. Un- 
hitch your horse from my hitchin’-post and clear 
out! I don’t want you round.” 

Louise looked helplessly at Emalene, who calm- 
ly gazed toward the road. “Then you won’t come 
out, Mr. Holliday?” asked the determined Miss 
Anstey. 

“I said it an’ I meant it, an’ I won’t listen to 
anything you got to say. My mind’s made up, an’ 
it won’t be long before you’re served with papers. 
You hear me?” 

“But I was going to propose ” 

“Too late. Don’t bother. I’d ’a’ listened if you’d 
’a’ listened to me; but by ginger, a woman that’s 
as mean as what you are, I got no use for. Go 


FEMININE FINANCE 


201 


where you belong an’ don’t you come here again 
or I’ll have you arrested for trespassin’.” 

“You’d better come out and listen to me. You’ll 
regret it if you don’t,” said she, persistent to a de- 
gree that appalled Emalene. 

“By gravy, if I do come out you’ll be sorry, be- 
cause I’ll get the constable an’ have you arrested. 
Ain’t a man got a right to lay down an’ try to 
get a little ease after you’ve bunged him all up, 
without bein’ pestered with your standin’ on his 
porch annoyin’ him, when you’ve already had a 
good chance to square yourself? Get out, I say, 
and get quick ! You can stand there all day and I 
w T on’t pay any ’tention. I’m goin’ t’ bed.” 

Again Emalene was visually besought to inter- 
fere. Again she silently ignored the pleading eyes 
of her disturbed friend. Again and again Louise 
called out to Cousin Jim, while Emalene sat, 
sphinx-like, indifferent alike to gestures, looks and 
words. After a while it appeared to have dawned 
upon her that Cousin Jim in this instance was not 
to be placated, and she said : 

“Well, Emalene, you’ve kept your word; and you 
are doubtless gratified that the return here was 
fruitless; but I think you would have shown a more 
friendly spirit to have helped, by at least a word. 
You know well enough if you had spoken he’d have 
come out and listened to reason.” 

“Did you have anything reasonable to propose, 
Louise? What did you intend to say, had he come 
out?” 


202 


FEMININE FINANCE 


“I was going to tell him I’d give him ten dollars 
to call that suit off — that would have paid his 
doctor’s bills; these country doctors don’t get 
much.” 

“I’m glad I kept silent,” said Emalene, again 
climbing into the buggy, while Cousin Jim, who 
had tip-toed to the second story of his domicile, 
stood behind a half-turned shutter, and watched 
them drive away. 


CHAPTER XV 


Again the horse jogged toward the village, this 
time with a disappointed look, and as though won- 
dering at the silence behind him where before there 
had been such volubility. He was prepared for 
a further postponement of the delight of his meas- 
ure of oats. Scarcely a word was spoken by the 
two women until the station was reached, and the 
liveryman, impatient of the delay in returning his 
property, was paid and had driven off. 

“Do you know, Emalene,” said Louise, “I didn’t 
suppose it possible for you to remain silent for 
such a length of time.” 

“Am I what would be called a great talker?” 
asked she, with perfect equanimity, and determined 
to show no irritation. “I generally have some- 
thing to say when there’s anyone about that I want 
to say it to. I suppose it comes from being accus- 
tomed for so many years to work that is so near- 
ly mechanical that my mind is comparatively free, 
and so many things occurring to it that I’ve no op- 
portunity to express until I am out of the office. 
But I think I must be a pretty good listener, too.” 

“I suppose you think I’m foolish about Cousin 
Jim and Tilly,” remarked Louise, tentatively. 

203 


204 


FEMININE FINANCE 


“Let’s not talk of them. Let our friendship be 
as though they had no existence.” 

“How can that be? If he brings suit you’ll have 
to appear as a witness for him. Perhaps I might 
have you for a witness, too! Can a person be a 
witness on both sides of a case?” 

“I don’t know. I’ve had no experience with the 
law.” 

“If you were called as a witness, would you go 
against me, Emalene?” 

“If telling the truth as far as I know it in re- 
gard to this case would be going against you, I 
would.” 

“Do you think it would be the part of a true 
friend for you to side with this fellow against me?” 

“W e are commanded to love our neighbor as our- 
selves — not better than our selves ; and if I should 
lie for you I should have to love you better than I 
do myself. I should never think of lying to save 
myself anything.” 

Seated in the train — again tfiey caught an ex- 
press — Louise once more sought to introduce the 
subject which Emalene tabooed. “You haven’t yet 
told me of your ‘night out.’ Where did they take 
you and whatever did they do to you — may they 
not want to take me?” 

“When I promised to tell you the details, I meant 
to; but now my desire is to eliminate those two un- 
fortunate cousins from our friendship. I cannot 
go into the story of last night without going into 
their affairs somewhat, so I’m going to ask you to 


FEMININE FINANCE 


205 


excuse me. It’s a thing of the past — has served 
its purpose — let it go.” 

“But there’s no reason why you shouldn’t tell 
me what they did to you. I’d like to hear, and be- 
sides, I might learn something from your experience 
that would help me were I taken in the same way. 
I’d be frightened to death! And if I knew how 
you conducted yourself under the same ordeal, I 
might save myself, and others, trouble.” 

“You’ve nothing to fear if you’re true to your- 
self; you know that without my telling you. Do 
you realize that I’ve not yet had a moment of the 
chat I went to you for on Tuesday morning — the 
day I was to have gone to Hemmelston — and 
didn’t?” 

“You said some of your friends were to be there.” 

“Yes. There’s Mrs, Hazard. Then Rosamond 
Gray is coming over from Lenox to be with me a 
week ; and her uncle, Geoffrey Gray, is to come for 
a few days while she is there, and accompany her 
back to Lenox. Mr. Gray is one of my special 
friends.” 

“Rosamond Gray is the girl that started a sort 
of fresh-air and summer and winter and all-the- 
year-round club for girls, isn’t she, and that asked 
your cooperation?” 

“Yes.” 

“I haven’t heard you say anything of her for 
so long a time, I thought you had lost each other.” 

“You and I seem to have so many things to talk 
about when we’re together that I may have for- 


206 


FEMININE FINANCE 


gotten to mention her and the club to you ; besides, 
I’ve found it impossible to talk to you about Rosa- 
mond and the club without seeming to appeal for 
funds. But she and I are the same to each other as 
we have always been. Fve given my Thursday 
evenings to the club when I’ve been in town, for the 
past nine years. Rosamond and I really enjoy the 
girls. She isn’t the sort that calls them ‘Dearie’ and 
patronizes them to death at the club, and wouldn’t 
be found looking toward them in the street. She 
furnishes most of the money; she has a good deal 
of her own, and liberal and wealthy friends; be- 
sides which, I fancy she’s her Uncle Geoffrey’s 
almoner. I can’t help much financially, but I got 
Amy Bolton to teach them embroidery originally. 
She was fine. Since she left off, the girls them- 
selves do the teaching. Many of them who had no 
training except in the roughest factory work, 
learned in the club and at night after working 
hard all day, to be expert embroiderers, and earn 
large wages as such. Then I got Fannie Amory to 
teach them dancing; and if there’s anyone in New 
York that can teach dancing to the queen’s taste, 
it’s she. Others of the girls have become expert 
workers in other lines, and one or two have been 
put in the way of getting an advanced education. 
Some have married and married well, and come 
back to the meetings now and help with money and 
in various ways. Rosamond did a great thing when 
she planned this little club, although she never 
has sought any publicity in connection with her 


FEMININE FINANCE 


207 


good works, and avoids it in every possible way. 
She did what she could at the first, and the result 
justifies her.” 

All of which was listened to perfunctorily by 
Louise — the fear of Cousin Jim’s possible course 
uppermost in her mind and struggling to be voiced. 
Emalene’s evident determination to banish all con- 
sideration of her dilemma discouraged Louise 
somewhat and angered her not a little. 

When the Grand Central Station at Forty-second 
Street was reached, they separated, Louise in petu- 
lance, after vainly trying to induce her friend to 
accompany her home. 

Reaching her home, she let herself into the house 
with her latch-key, intending to go quietly to her 
room. But on opening the street door, she found 
Martha standing in the hall, looking mystified, as 
Louise thought. 

“Has anyone come for me, Martha? I was 
obliged to go out early this morning and Miss Car- 
ruthers and I have been together all day.” 

“No’m, dey ain’t anybody come. But they’s been 
a turrible time with th’ wattah pipes, an’ Mrs. Hat- 
field’s gone to th’ country to-day an’ Ah had t’ git 
William t’ break in yoh doah, so’s I could wipe 
up de wattah dat trikkle down from upstaihs into 
yoh clauset.” 

“You broke into my room!” She was about to 
add “How dare you?” when it occurred to her that 
her first business was to keep friends with Martha 
— that, as things had turned out she could ill af- 


208 


FEMININE FINANCE 


ford to antagonize anybody, Martha least of all. 
Quaking Inwardly, but outwardly composed, she 
stepped into the drawing-room, indicating to Mar- 
tha that she ’was to follow. Weak from excitement 
and the effort to betray no evidence of it, she seat- 
ed herself, saying : 

“Now, tell me just what happened — all about it.” 
Martha, lean, loose- jointed, white of tooth and eye, 
stood before her, swinging her hands about and 
lifting and shaking her high, thin shoulders, and 
occasionally wagging her head as she recited: 

“William an’ me went in, an’ th’ wattah was all 
cornin’ down th’ wall from Mr. Chalmers’ room — 
a-trikklin’ sofas’ — yuh see I been down inde kitchen 
with Malindv fuh a ouah or two — I was ironin’ mah 
close; an’ I come along up to put mah clean close 
away, an’ I past Mr. Chalmers’ doah, an’ I hear th’ 
wattah runnin’ an’ I go in, an’ his clauset floah 
was a inch deep, an’ no way o’ stoppin’ it runnin’ ! 
An’ William come up an’ say I skeer him outtah his 
hide cause I holler so when I first see th’ wattah 
runnin’, an’ pitch mah clean close on th’ steps and 
holler fuh him to git a plummah. An’ I say to 
William: ‘go long to the ’phone an’ git th’ plum- 
mah quick an’ doan’ stan’ an’ tell me about yuh 
ole black hide — what I caah about voh hide, any- 
how?’ ” 

Long familiar with Martha’s methods, Louise 
wisely refrained from an attempt to suppress what- 
ever detail, however irrelevant, she might embody 
in the relation. Martha continued: 


FEMININE FINANCE 


209 


“William telephoned an’ turn off the metah an’ 
come back up, an’ we try to git th’ wattah off de 
floah o’ Mr. Chalmers’ clauset. I use de dus’-pan, 
an’ William handle a crum’-tray, an’ Malindy, she 
come up an’ she try huh han’ with a big rag; but 
she’s so big an’ fat, she couldn’t stoop ovah so good, 
an’ she take up so much room in de clauset she quit 
soon, an’ I say: ‘Lord, William, Miss Anstey’s 
room’ll be all wet — all dem pictures, an’ books, 
an’ rugs, an’ de Lord knows what all — she’ll have 
fits. Le’s go down an’ break in huh doah — all de 
damage been done up here they ken be now — but 
we all bettah save Miss Anstey’s room all we ken.’ 
An’ me an’ William run down de stairs, an’ Wil- 
liam — he’s pow’ful man — he put his shouldah to 
de doah, an’ I he’p push an’ kick, an’ we bust it 
open, an’ go in, an’ wipe up, an’ scoop up, an’ dip 
up, an’ mop up, foh ’bout a ouah — ’fore we git so’s 
dey was no dangeh o’ de pahlah ceilin’. Ah don’t 
know what Mrs. Hatfield’s goin’ t’ say when she 
gits back to-night — ’tain’t mah fault de wattah 
run — de pipes bust an’ I can’t he’p it.” 

No allusion whatever made she to the secret oc- 
cupant of the room. Miss Anstey scrutinized the 
yellow countenance for some sign of knowledge of 
Tilly’s presence; but so far as her manner or ex- 
pression indicated, Martha was unaware of the ex- 
istence anywhere in the world of such a person as 
a blonde chorus woman. 

“The lock on my door will have to be repaired at 
once,” said Miss Anstey; “so please telephone im- 


210 


FEMININE FINANCE 


mediately for the locksmith, Maxwell, to send a man 
here at once. If you don’t hurry they may not 
send the man to-day. Be sure and tell him it’s 
imperative that the lock shall be repaired before 
night.” 

“Yas’m,” said Martha, departing at once for the 
telephone. 

Miss Anstey ascended the stairs to her room 
alone, free to meet whatever there awaited her, 
without the scrutiny of Martha’s gaze. 

She found the door closed, but, of necessity, un- 
fastened. Pushing it open with beating heart, she 
stepped within. 


CHAPTER XVI 


Miss Carruthers had been the recipient of much 
advice on the subject, and always in favor of, matri- 
mony as applied to herself. She had been told many 
times that as a wife she would be ideal; that she 
possessed qualities in kind and degree that man, 
average, above and below average, requires in a 
wife; that although she had ’fended for herself 
so far on the earthly pilgrimage, the day would 
surely come when she would repent herself in bit- 
terness of neglected matrimonial opportunities. 

It had once or twice befallen that the matrimony 
advocate was one to whom she was tempted to make 
the oft-quoted reply of Priscilla to John Alden, 
though, clever and conscientious woman that she 
was, having no fancy for sacrificing friends on the 
altar of her vanity, she had enjoyed the companion- 
ship of many men without having permitted any 
one of them to ask her outright for her hand. 

She had always some one of what Louise Anstey 
called “the male persuasion” ready to do her bid- 
ding, some especially devoted one, who, but for her 
uniform attitude toward all men, might easily have 
degenerated into a suitor. It had happened occa- 
sionally that the devoted one had served a year or 
211 


212 


FEMININE FINANCE 


more, and coming at last to know that she wonld 
never be other to him than she had been, gradually 
fell back into the ranks as a friend, to be as grad- 
ually replaced by some new one, who, in his turn, 
also retreated to the ranks. Proverbially reticent 
as to her relations with her men friends, listening 
always politely to advice and admonitions in re- 
gard thereto, Miss Carruthers, while absolutely free 
from coquetry, had come to be known by certain of 
her women friends as something of a flirt. She was 
supposed to have been betrothed several times, al- 
though never a word of what is commonly under- 
stood by the term “love-making” had been spoken, 
or permitted, by her. 

Formerly she had had an oft-recurring vision, 
dim and undefined, of herself, at some future and 
remote time, as the centre of a home, where beauty 
and comfort and joy and love, all should have their 
perfect realization. And in that sacred place was 
always one to feel whose presence was the perfec- 
tion of joy, to hear whose voice was the music of 
the spheres, and to look upon whom was not for 
eyes unvisited by the spirit’s loftiest promptings. 
But as time went on this picture had become less 
and less defined and further removed into the realm 
of things of which dreams are made; and she con- 
tinued — what seemed to those who loved and 
thought they knew her, but were far from under- 
standing the real woman — her prosaic, but never 
sordid life. 

She was a thoroughly womanly — never woman- 


FEMININE FINANCE 


213 


ish — woman ; and all that that implies. Her charm, 
her really girlish beauty, her goodness, helpfulness 
and habitual but never aggressive brightness, were 
factors in the sway she held over men. She was 
reported to have said that she knew too much to 
let men know how much she knew, and often per- 
mitted them to assume superiority in the matter of 
intellect, listening attentively to a great deal 
of misstatement because the masculine relators felt 
so comfortably sure of themselves as wise, and of 
herself as ignorant, on a given subject. Most of 
her men friends were of a sort to make much mental 
abusement unnecessary, and appreciated her clev- 
erness and ability to sympathize with them in what- 
ever of their undertakings and interests they chose 
to confide to her; to understand their difficulties, 
and to rejoice in their successes. But, like all 
strong, gentle, and helpful women, she had among 
her masculine friends, verifying the law of the 
attraction of opposites, men of the dependent and 
despondent sort, to whom, out of the fullness of 
her own vitality and optimism, she was a never-fail- 
ing source of comfort. Because of these, some of 
the wiseacres ventured to prophesy that at the 
last she would pick up the traditional crooked stick. 

Six months prior to Tilly’s descent upon Miss 
Anstey, Rosamond Gray had asked her Uncle 
Geoffrey to accompany her to call upon Emalene, 
not in any formal way — both Emalene and Rosa- 
mond were far removed from the silliness of mere- 
ly formal calls — but it being imperative that Rosa- 


214 


FEMININE FINANCE 


mond should see Emalene on that particular even- 
ing to consult her about some club matter, Mr. 
Gray was taken as an escort, merely. In present- 
ing her uncle, Rosamond had said: “Emalene, I 
can’t understand how it has come about that you 
and Uncle Geoffrey have failed to meet before; 
and I blame myself, Uncle Geoffrey, for neglecting 
to make you known to the brightest and best of all 
my friends. I’m really contrite, Emalene, when 
I think of your living in a world where a man like 
my uncle — the very best man in the world — is, and 
not having him for a friend. I want you two to be 
great friends.” 

They were, from that moment. Mr. Gray was at 
once the most devoted — never before had anyone 
been so devoted. He was most appreciative of all 
her qualities, her charm, and ^wondered that for 
years she should have gone in and out of Rosa- 
mond’s home, always welcome, and he have failed 
to meet and know her. He looked back over the 
years and remembered hearing mentioned in the 
talk at the homes of his sisters, the name that had 
come to mean so much to him, and marveled that 
it could ever have meant so little. 

When he met Emalene, Geoffrey Gray was forty 
years of age. At twenty-five he had lost by a par- 
ticularly harrowing accident, his bride of a few 
weeks. He had mourned her truly but not morbidly, 
and looked forward to a happy old age at the fire- 
side of one of his nieces — his nieces were all favor- 
ites. A lawyer by profession, he devoted himself 


FEMININE FINANCE 


215 


sufficiently to its practice to make it lucrative but 
not enslaving; being also in possession by inheri- 
tance, of an estate from which his revenues were not 
inconsiderable. He allowed himself leisure to in- 
dulge his taste for the finer things of life, among 
them music, of which he was a patron in the 
most enlightened and liberal sense. Slightly above 
the medium height, lean, well-groomed, alert, with 
the refined look of intellect and race, his distin- 
guished appearance and charming manner alone 
were sufficient to make him, as he had often been, 
sought as a matrimonial prize. 

Emalene, so happy in the friendship of this culti- 
vated, refined and kindly man, w T ondered what life 
would now be to her without it. Her ruling pas- 
sion being music, and music being writ so large 
in his scheme of life, he found delight in her natural 
taste for and appreciation of the best in this most 
spiritual of the arts, its appeal being to the most 
spiritual of the senses. 

Together they had enjoyed the best of the musical 
events, provided in such abundance for New York 
music-lovers, during what remained of the season 
after their first meeting. And in one way and an- 
other, she was filling his life and he hers more and 
more, day by day. 

Until she met Geoffrey Gray, Emalene’s strong 
individuality had never met its counterpart. Sub- 
consciously she had been waiting the advent of some 
greater strength than her own, someone whose cour- 
age would be the absence of fear, whose wisdom 


216 


FEMININE FINANCE 


would guide and cheer her in all ways. Naturally 
helpful, she had served many, had visited the sick, 
befriended the fatherless, whispered words of com- 
fort to the mourners, laughed with the merry. But 
there had been times, known only to herself, when 
she had longed unspeakably for some strong and 
tangible earthly presence, in which, if but for a mo- 
ment, her soul might find rest. As she came to 
know Geoffrey Gray better, she believed that in 
him her ideal was realized. 

Up to the time of what became known to herself 
and Louise Anstey as the “Tilly Episode,” the re- 
lations between this exceptional man and woman 
had been that of a thoroughly appreciative friend- 
ship that might at any time ripen into something 
more conventional, but scarcely so delectable. His 
intention to spend at Hemmelston a portion of the 
time of her stay there was most gratifying, but 
hardly so significant to her as it might have been 
to a woman less experienced. 


CHAPTER XYII 


Miss Anstey found her room deserted. Her 
quandary was aggravated by her curiosity as to the 
time and manner of her guest’s leaving — whether 
before the liquid catastrophe, and with the knowl- 
edge, if not the consent, of Martha; or, after that 
event, and Martha in ignorance thereof. On un- 
locking her closets, she found Tilly’s gown, hat, 
veils, and the pongee coat, even her gloves, where 
she herself had hidden them on leaving the house 
that morning. She could not believe that Martha, 
with her racial propensity to tell all she knew, 
would have failed to communicate what, if aught 
she knew, of Tilly. And the police! Could they 
have taken the woman away? Certainly not with- 
out the knowledge of Martha and the other ser- 
vants. 

She wondered what bearing Tilly’s disappearance 
might have on her own embroglio with the Connec- 
ticut farmer; regretting for a moment her failure 
to accede to Emalene’s plan at the very outset. 

Aside from her inward disturbance on Tilly’s ac- 
count, there was something especially trying to 
this fastidious woman’s sense of order and pro- 
priety, in the servants’ invasion of her room during 
her absence, and the consequent disarrangement 
thereof. She sat with drawn portiere, windows 
817 


218 


FEMININE FINANCE 


open, her room in the higgledy-piggledy condition 
necessitated by the moving into it of the portable 
contents of the bath-room, where they must remain 
during the drying-out process. This seemed the 
very ultimate that she could endure. She arose and 
rang for Martha, and when that silent and some- 
what awed person appeared, commanded her with 
some sharpness to remove the cot, asking why it 
had remained in the room so long. 

“I’d ’a’ took it out yisdiddy, Miss Anstey, but 
yuh sayed Miss Carruthers might come back an’ 
spen’ de night with yuh,” said the surprised Mar- 
tha, making haste to disappear with the objection- 
able temporary bed. In the haste and confusion 
the servants had moved a chiffonier from its place 
near the bath-room, leaving exposed to view an ac- 
cumulation of dust on the base-board, testifying 
somewhat to carelessness on the part of Martha. 
While the latter was pottering about the room 
with the cot, Miss Anstey, outraged almost to 
frenzy by the sight of about a yard of dusty base- 
board, said irritably : 

“Martha, look at that base-board! It’s filthy! 
The dust on it is as thick as hastv-pudding !” 

“No’m, ’tain’t,” said Martha. 

“Do you contradict me?” 

“Yas’m, ’cause Gaud knows hasty puddin’s a 
heap thicker’n what that is,” drawled she, turning 
away the lady’s wrath by the softness of her an- 
swer. 

Louise was tempted while Martha was at hand 


FEMININE FINANCE 


219 


to make some adroit effort to betray her into a con- 
fession, verbal or otherwise, of knowledge or lack 
of it, of Tilly’s visitation. Preliminary thereto, 
she was running over in her mind what Martha had 
given utterance to respecting the woman she had 
admitted to the house four days before, and 
floundering mentally for a choice of words in which 
to make the attack, when there came a ring at the 
street door, which Martha left the room to an- 
swer. She soon returned with a note for Miss An- 
stey on her tray, saying: “De boy’s at de doah 
waitin’ foh a anseh.” 

Louise recognized Tilly’s large, clear chirography 
at once and tore open the envelope with outward 
calm. Martha having by this time finished what 
she had come to do, Miss Anstey said : 

“You may go now, Martha; and kindly send up 
the boy for the package. I’ll have it ready in a 
moment.” 

“I tole de boy tuh come heah an’ wait fur a an- 
seh. But he sayed he got stric’ ohdehs tuh wait 
at de doah downstairs an’ anseh no questions. He’s 
one o’ them sassy little imps — Laud knows they’s 
turrible young ’uns, dem messengeh boys! Ah 
don’ know w T heah they learns all they meanness, 
an’ slang an’ deviltry — they’s a special kin’ o’ boys 
bohn foh that kin’ o’ bis-ness — yuh nevah do see 
that kin’ anywheh else, or doin’ anythin’ else.” 

Miss Anstey entered the closet and put the 
pongee coat, the expensive and really beautiful 
black and white silk gown into a parcel and the hat 


220 


FEMININE FINANCE 


in a box. She rang again for and delivered both 
to Martha, who had stood in the hall while they 
were being made ready. 

Martha descended the stairs to the whistling 
urchin who was making himself at home on the big 
old-fashioned wooden chair which adorned Mrs. 
Hatfield’s front hall. With the readiness of his 
kind, he called out to Martha before she reached 
the bottom of the stairs: 

“Say, yuse ain’t goin’ t’ load me up wid two o’ 
dem weights, when I was tol’ to bring one — ‘a pack- 
age,’ says she, an’ never peeps about de box.” 

“You take what yuh git an’ go ’long outtah heah, 
boy,” drawled Martha. 

“No, me orders was to hike meself here an’ git 
a package; an’ dey was dependin’ on me to folly 
instructions. How do I know what yuse is workin’ 
off on me in de box? G’long wid ye — I won’t take 
no box.” 

“What yuh gotta do is t’ take what’s give to 
yuh, boy ! It’s all same price.” 

“No ’tain’t; de manager’ll be after me! I’ll lose 
me job !” 

“I nevah see de like o’ yuh messengeh boys! De 
devil’s in yuh, ev’ry one o’ yuh. Always quoillin’ 
an’ fitin’ an’ chargin’ moh — I d’clah, anythin’ I 
’spize it’s a triflin’ messengeh boy. I’d like t’ bus’ 
a boad ovah yuh haid — yuh ac seannalus! Take 
this heah box an’ cleah out, an’ mighty quick, too, 
lessen I goin’ open de doah an’ pitch yuh out.” 

“Hully gee! You dassent touch me.” 


I 



“ I never did see the like o’ yuh messenger boys ! De debil ’s in 

yuh, ev’ry one o’ yuh ” Page 220 


1 

Hr 





FEMININE FINANCE 


221 


“Ah dassent, hey? Yuli impident young ’un — 
I’ll show yuh.” In her annoyance at losing time 
with the boy, Martha opened the door, and taking 
the small arm in the dark -blue sleeve, pulled the 
urchin toward the door, when, as she was about to 
cast him forth and the box and package with him, 
she observed : 

“Yuh ain’t a regular messengeh boy — yuh ain’t 
got no numbah on yoh hat. I ain’t goin’ to give 
yuh anythin’ ’tall — package nor box — yuh a swind- 
lin’ little rascal.” 

“I took off me number. I got it in me pocket.” 

“Well, you’ll have to show 1 me , boy, ’cos I ain’t 
goin’ tuh trus’ yuh wid a single thing o’ Miss An- 
stey’s or any othah lady’s lessen I know yuh a 
reg’lar messengeh boy. Show me yoh number right 
now.” 

Somewhat crestfallen, the boy drew from his 
pocket the metal cap badge, and dangled it before 
Martha’s eyes. 

“Whyn’t yuh got it on yoh hat?” 

“Cos I didn’t want yuse to know what office I 
belong at — that’s why,” said he, forced to frank- 
ness. 

“S’pose I repoat yuh fuh doin’ like that, an foh 
yoh impidence?” 

“Yuse can ‘repoat’ all you want to. I don’t give 
a tinker’s damn. You think I ain’t got no infloo- 
ence? Well, you ‘repoat’ an’ I’ll show you.” 

“I ain’t got no moh time to spen’. Yuh take this 
heah box an’ git out, lessen yuh got to go back an’ 


222 


FEMININE FINANCE 


tell de lady yuh’s so impident we wouldn’t give 
yuh de box an’ pahsel. Yuh heah me?” 

“How do yuse know I kem from a lady? I kem 
from a gent!” said he, forgetting what he had 
already said. 

“Now, what’s the use o’ yoh lyin’, boy? Don’t I 
know wheah yuh come from?” 

“Not on yer life!” 

“I do, too !” 

“Give a guess, an’ if you hit de bull’s-eye, I’ll 
own up.” 

“I’ll tell what de lady looks like,” said Martha. 
“She’s big an’ fat an’ got vallah haih ” 

“Yuse is ’way off de trolley,” he interrupted, 
laughing impishly. “Yuse is awful smart where 
de skin’s off, but yuse can’t fool a A.D.T. kid.” 
Again his really delicious laughter rippled out, 
and Martha said : 

“Heah, take this heah box an’ bundle, an’ go 
’long. If they’s any extry to pay on ’em, they’ll 
pay you where you come from. An’ if yuh don’t 
behave I’ll snatch yoh numbah an’ telephone de 
office yuh cuttin’ up heah.” 

“Yuse ain’t got no change, have you? I want 
me car-fare.” 

“I ain’t goin’ to pay yuh — you’ll git yoh pay 
when yuh take this box an’ package wheah you come 
from.” 

“Don’t de ladies dat I bring de package an’ de 
letters to — don’t dey know de way to treat a boy 


FEMININE FINANCE 223 

what brings ’em letters an’ things from de gents, 
an’ ” 

“See heah, boy, yuh stop yoh foolin’ an’ take an’ 
go with these heah — git along — no moh dev’lin’. 
I got plenty wuk to do. An’ if de gent that sent 
you wants you to have moh money for one trip, 
he can give it to yuh — I won’t. Heah, take ’em. 
I goin’ to put you an’ ’em outtah de doah, lessen 
yuh do.” 

Having failed to carry his point and get an ex- 
tra fee, the boy left her, not without having made 
up at her a numerous variety of what he designated 
“snoots” and, after he reached the sidewalk, wag- 
ging his fingers at. her, his thumb pressed to the 
end of his saucy little nose. 


CHAPTER XVIII 


After parting with Louise at the Grand Central 
Station, Emalene hurried home expecting to spend 
what remained of the day in completing her ar- 
rangements for leaving town. These had been in- 
terfered with and postponed by the happenings in 
connection with Miss Anstey’s unwelcome visitor. 
She had, in packing, always in mind — getting a 
bit of amusement out of it — the advice of the sage 
who recommended that in filling a trunk, nothing 
be put on the bottom, lest the thing so disposed 
be the first needed. 

Upon entering her room, she was greeted by a 
picture for which she was unprepared. Seated in 
her largest chair was no less a personage than Tilly 
Baxter, arrayed as if for a cake-walk or some other 
fantastic event. 

“How-dy-do,” said Emalene, cordially and excit- 
edly, taking her visitor’s hand. At once she seated 
herself on the couch and gave her whole being up 
to one of those prolonged, silent laughs that were 
characteristic of her. After a time she caught her 
breath to gasp: “Do excuse me, I can’t help it,” 
and was again swept into a perfect gale of hilarity. 
“To be sure I’ve never seen you fully dressed in 
224 


FEMININE FINANCE 


225 


your own clothes, but a more perfect disguise I 
cannot imagine. How long have you been, and how 
did you get here?” 

“I’ve been here some time, and Fve been ‘sittin’ 
up Sarah Ann an’ showin’ my breastpin’ — keeping 
on my hat and this tight waist, because I thought 
it would help as a disguise in case I were searched 
for here. The servant seemed to think it was all 
right for me to come up to your room and wait — 
made no objection whatever — and apparently 
thought nothing of what might be called my re- 
markable appearance.” 

“No. That’s one of the advantages of having no 
reputation to live up to as an elegant or even a 
‘respec table’ person. No one is surprised at or 
questions anything I or my friends do,” answered 
Emalene, beaming. 

“But I guess no one doubts that you’re all right, 
all right, just the same,” said Tilly. 

“Now tell me what happened you — all about it,” 
said Emalene. 

“First, please tell me where you’ve been — w T here 
you spent last night. Louise was almost frantic 
about you. I wasn’t afraid but what you’d be well 
treated in case they got you to pump you about me. 
What I was afraid of was that you might have been 
run over by a bubble or a surface-car, and might be 
dead or suffering,” said Tilly, with more affection 
in voice and manner than would have seemed possi- 
ble, having in mind her first hours in Louise’s 
room. 


226 


FEMININE FINANCE 


“There’s no good worrying about me, ever,” said 
Emalene. “I always land on my feet.” 

Tilly observed Emalene’s disinclination to speak 
of her whereabouts the previous night, and this ret- 
icence was not without a disturbing effect on her. 

“Do begin and talk fast,” said Emalene, “and tell 
me how you got away from Louise’s. I’m glad you 
came to me. How did you know where to find me?” 

“That night we three bunked together in Louise’s 
room, you wrote a note to your landlady, and were 
particular to read the address to the messenger 
when he came. Ten years from now I should be able 
to recall the number of the house and the name of 
your landlady.” 

“I’ve been so engrossed in the impoliteness of 
laughing at my guest’s appearance that I haven’t 
asked her to take off her hat. But do take off that 
remarkable creation you have so beautifully bal- 
anced over your left eye. I’ll take off my own, and 
then we’ll have what my old laundress used to call 
‘a game o’ talk.’ ” 

They were soon seated, Emalene saying : “Now 
let’s have the story of your escape from durance. 
Were They’ after you?” 

“No, but the water-pipes burst in the room above 
Louise’s and there was a perfect flood in her bath- 
room. She left early this morning to find you, and 
I worried about you, too, but finally laid down and 
fell asleep. I seem to have made up arrears of 
sleep for years, during the time I’ve been in that 
room of Louise’s. I awoke at about half after eleven 


FEMININE FINANCE 


22T 


and hearing the sound of running water, got up 
to see if by chance I had left the hot water turned 
on in the bowl. Instead, water was coming down 
the walls of the bath-room above. It had covered 
the floor of the bath and was about to run over the 
sill into the room and on Louise’s beautiful par- 
quetry. I was about to begin sopping it up with 
the bath mats and terry towels to keep it from 
leaking through on to the drawing-room ceiling, 
when there came such a hurtling against the door of 
the room as you never would have imagined two 
persons capable of making. I was terrified. Your 
mysterious disappearance, and Louise’s failure to 
return since early morning, justified my fears. I 
thought the whole police and fire departments were 
after me and would destroy everything in their at- 
tempt to get me. I had sufficient presence of mind 
to go in the clothes closet and lock myself in. By 
listening I learned that it was not the police after 
me, but Martha and the man come to try to stop 
the water from leaking through to the floor below. 
I nearly suffocated in my retreat, besides fearing 
that, should they investigate to see if the water 
had flowed in the closet where I was hiding, I might 
be arrested as a burglar. It occurred to me that, 
given such a chance, Louise, in her anxiety to get 
rid of me and avoid the possible consequences of 
having housed me during this awful time, might be 
glad enough to accuse me of attempted burglary 
and have me taken on that charge. I let my im- 
agination go, and conjured up enough horrors dur- 


228 


FEMININE FINANCE 


ing the time I was in that closet listening to those 
darkies, to last me all the rest of my days! I’ve 
had a good many tastes of various sorts of emotion, 
but I declare to you, Miss Carruthers, that I’ve suf- 
fered enough from fear in the past four — nearly 
five — days to keep me straight and prudent all the 
rest of my time on this footstool.” 

“Fm sorry you think so poorly of Louise as to 
entertain such an idea about her. Think well of 
her. She’ll learn some day.” 

“To continue,” said Tilly : “Those two servants 
mopped and dipped and talked and quarreled until 
I thought they’d never have done ; and, as they had 
broken the lock of the door in entering, I knew I 
should have no privacy; and Louise’s failure to 
return — do you know where she is?” 

“Yes. I’ve been with her nearly all day. She 
came here early this morning for me — didn’t the 
servant at the door tell you we had gone out to- 
gether?” 

“No. I asked if you were in, and the maid said 
that you were out but might return at any moment. 
She asked me if I woul£ wait and I told her I would 
if I might do so in your room. Then she showed 
me up. Have you seen the afternoon paper? I 
didn’t see a boy on the way up here and hadn’t the 
courage to approach a news-stand.” 

“No. I haven’t seen it, but we’ll send out and 
get one as soon as you tell me about your escape; 
do go on,” she said, smiling delightedly. 

“As I was saying, after the door was broken in 


FEMININE FINANCE 


229 


I knew there would be no privacy ; so, after all the 
talking and blowing and friendly ‘quoillin’, Wil- 
liam took himself off to the regions below stairs 
and left Martha fussing about the room; then I 
took my life in my hand and stepped out of the 
closet at a moment when she was looking away from 
the closet door, and stood still until she turned and 
faced me! A remarkable girl, that Martha! Do 
you know she didn’t show a bit of surprise! At 
first she didn’t speak— made no exclamation what- 
ever — and allowed me to say, as I did, I think, 
quite calmly : ‘I have been staying with Miss An- 
stev for a day or two, and she left me alone to-day. 
I was about to begin mopping up the water when 
you and William broke open the door, and as I 
wasn’t dressed, I retreated to the clothes closet. 
Unfortunately, Miss Anstey in her haste to get 
away early, locked up her closet, and, with her 
own clothes, locked up mine. I know she expected 
to be back in a short time, but she has been gone 
hours; and, although I should like to go out, I 
haven’t any clothes to go in — even my hat is locked 
up. I must go. Can’t you unlock the inner closet 
so I can get my gown and hat? Possibly you have a 
key.’ ” 

“ ‘No’m, I cayn’t unlock Miss Anstey’s clauset,’ 
said Martha. Ah wouldn’t da’h. Bad ’nuff for 
me to bus’ huh doah down ’thout goin’ in huh 
clauset. But I hadda git through de doah lessen 
huh room be ruined.’ 

“ ‘Can’t you do anything for me?’ I asked. ‘I 


230 


FEMININE FINANCE 


must get into some clothes and go out. I’ve been 
waiting here hour by hour for Miss Anstey’s re- 
turn — it’s very annoying that she should have put 
my clothes away and then locked them up.’ 

“ ‘Miss Anstey’s ve’y smaht young lady — she 
gen’ally knows what’s she’s doin’. Cur’us how she 
put them clos’ away !’ said Martha. 

“ ‘Yes, it is,’ said I. ‘It has placed me in an 
awful position, because it’s very important that I 
should get away from here before two o’clock or 
thereabouts. I must go. Can’t you help me in 
some way?’ 

“ ‘Dev’s only two ladies in de house ’sides Miss 
Anstey, ’cause it’s summah, an’ they clos’ wouldn’t 
fit yuh as well as mine, even if they was willin’ tuh 
lend ’em.’ 

“ ‘Oh, I couldn’t think of borrowing anyone’s 
clothes,’ I said hastily, and she went on: ‘I ain’t 
no way o’ he’pin’ yuh ’ceptin’ t’ lend yuh mah own 
hat an’ dress, ’casin yuh’ll wear ’em. Some white 
ladies wouldn’t, even in a pinch, but all mah clos’ 
is as clean as any white lady’s. I got a nice red 
hat wid a yaller feather — I bought it on Eighth 
Avenue at Casey’s — an’ ev’body says it’s ve’y nice 
an’ becomin’ tuh me; but yuh see I’m dark com- 
plected an’ yuh’re light, so it wouldn’t look so nice 
on yuh; an’ I got a green dress, all trimmed in 
purple velvet. It’s too little fuh yuh — I’m shorter 
an’ slimmer’n yuh, but short dresses is all de style 
now, an’ if yuh got nice-lookin’ feet, shortah de 
bettah. I always has to have mine long ; but white 


FEMININE FINANCE 


231 


ladies mos’ always has nicer-lookin’ feet’n cullud. 
’Tain’t that they’s so much littler, but they’s diff- 
’unt. If you’d like to try on mail hat an’ dress. 
I’ll fetch ’em.’ 

“ ‘Please do, Martha,’ said I. Fancy my saying 
in one breath I couldn’t wear borrowed clothes, 
and in the next accepting Martha’s loan ! ‘A great 
deal depends on my getting away from here. I 
can’t wait for Miss Anstey if I can find anything 
to go out in. I can’t imagine what’s keeping her. 
I’ll send or bring your clothes back by night, sure.’ ” 

Tilly’s imitation of Martha’s tones, inflections, 
elisions, even her gestures, was a delight to Ema- 
lene, and so perfectly reproduced what that always 
interesting handmaiden would be likely to say 
under the circumstances, that it was as though she 
stood there, relating the happening to which Miss 
Carruthers owed the presence of her entertaining 
guest. 

“Martha disappeared,” she continued, “I hiding 
in the closet meanwhile. I knew a plumber would 
be coming along soon, and was crazy to get away. 
You may be sure I was terrified to be willing to 
wear these clothes; but I said to myself, ‘any port 
in a storm’ and when she brought the gown and 
hat and gloves and veil, I had her stand at the door 
inside the room, while I arrayed myself in her 
clothes and swathed my head in her brown veil. 
Did you ever see such a figure? I know I look 
comical. She’s about two-thirds my weight and 
fully four inches shorter.” 


232 


FEMININE FINANCE 


Emalene laughed, and Tilly joined her heartily. 
She was realizing for the first time that Tilly was 
in her own rather bovine way quite attractive, 
though, with all her appreciation of temperamental 
and educational differences, Emalene was somewhat 
puzzled to understand, and found it a little diffi- 
cult to thoroughly approve, Tilly’s ability to laugh, 
in view of the recent tragedy, even supposing its 
victim to have been only an acquaintance. She re- 
called that Tilly had not disclosed her relationship, 
if any, with the men — had only declared her inno- 
cence of the crime, and the fact that other witnesses 
than herself would be able to do all that she could, 
if brought fully into the light of publicity in con- 
nection with the tragic affair. Tilly continued : 

“When I was ready to go, I gave Martha some 
money and received her thanks. She conducted me 
quietly to the street door and no one else, I am 
sure, saw me leave the house. I fancied I detected 
in her glance at my raiment as I descended the 
stoop, a wistfulness that expressed a doubt that she 
would ever again behold her finery; but she w T as 
game, and let it go. Really I ought to get this 
waist off ; it’s tight on me where it should be loose, 
and loose where it should be tight, and the strain 
on some portions of it might make it impossible for 
her to wear it again. I’d be sorry to ruin her gown, 
though I mean to make up to her for her kindness 
when I get where my clothes are.” 

“Pardon my not asking you to take it off,” 


FEMININE FINANCE 233 

laughed Emalene. “I didn’t think; but please do 
it now.” 

“Thanks, I will,” said Tilly, at once unfastening 
the waist. Then she said : “You haven’t asked me 
how long I’m going to stay, and you’ve quite for- 
gotten to tell me to go away — that I can’t stay here 
and disgrace you.” 

Emalene smiled. “I think I can have you stay 
here — the house isn’t very full — one or two young 
men are away on vacation. And no one will ever 
question my having a guest who for a few days 
would want her meals in her room. I can arrange 
it with Mrs. Pierson — a splendid woman, and thor- 
oughly kind.” 

“Understand, please, that I’m to pay for it. And 
moreover, Miss Carrutliers, I’m going to pay also 
your fare to Sedgwick and return, and for those 
bottles of grape-juice with which you saved my 
life. I’ve got a little money in my purse, and I’m 
not going to have you spend money on me — it’s suf- 
ficient for you to take me in and give me the pro- 
tection of your home.” 

Preferring not to show her surprise, Emalene 
said, hastily, as Tilly laid some money on the table : 

“You haven’t yet told me how you got through 
the streets here. Also how you happened to come, 
inasmuch as you didn’t know but that Louise and 
I might both be in jail.” 

“I thought I’d come here and find out if you and 
Louise were safe ; and when I learned that you were 
not in and might return any minute I took chances 


234 


FEMININE FINANCE 


on safety here for a while at least. I wanted to 
see you if I could on your return, and thought I’d 
be safer here than at my own rooms which is the 
only other place I could have gone. But when 
Martha first closed the door on me I felt as though 
cast into outer darkness and could scarcely resist 
turning back and ringing the bell and asking Mar- 
tha to tuck me away somewhere on her own account. 
The terror of those first few moments out there in 
the glare of the daylight was something I can’t 
describe. But after walking a block or two I felt 
more assured. I chose walking because people don’t 
have such opportunity to scrutinize one another in 
the streets as they do sitting opposite in the street- 
cars, idly taking note of everything worn, or said, 
or done. And as for cabs ! Cabby is such a know- 
ing bird, and I’ve been driven by so many of him, 
I dared not trust myself to one. I wonder if we 
could send out now and get an afternoon paper? 
If they’ve caught the fellow or someone that knows 
him as the ‘right’ person, it will not be necessary 
for me to spend the night here. I could go 
home ” 

“But not in those clothes! We ought to send to 
Louise’s and get yours.” 

“If she were there!” 

“She probably is. She started home from the 
Grand Central Station when I started here. Please 
sit at the desk there, and write her a note, and I’ll 
ring for a messenger, and when he goes for your 
clothes he can return Martha’s, if you’ll take off 


FEMININE FINANCE 


235 


your skirt. He can at the same time bring in an 
afternoon paper.” 

While Emalene was instructing the messenger, 
Tilly stood in the closet. On emerging therefrom she 
said : 

“Miss Carruthers, do you mind telling me where 
you and Louise have been to-day?” 

“We went to Sedgwick to see your cousin.” 

Tilly looked thoughtful a moment, and then said : 
“There’s something that I don’t know about Cousin 
Jim, that possibly I ought to know. Any one with 
half an eye could have seen, the night of Louise’s 
return from Sedgwick, that something more than 
mere failure to get the money for me w 7 as on her 
mind. And her actions ever since have confirmed 
me in the idea that I had then — that my presence 
in her room was not alone what caused her to ap- 
pear so upset. Yesterday afternoon, she, usually 
so cold, so self-contained and well-poised — what do 
you suppose she did?” 

“I wouldn’t undertake to guess.” 

“To be sure she was worried about your disap- 
pearance — I didn’t know 7 it then as I do now — but 
she seemed undecided what to do. First she took 
off her hat and gloves and put them aw r ay; then she 
got them out again and laid them on the table, 
walking about the room in such indecision that 
her body w 7 avered like a twig in the w 7 ind. Sud- 
denly, as though she had made up her mind to some 
definite thing, she started hastily across the room, 
and as suddenly turned and walked in the other 


236 


FEMININE FINANCE 


direction; and as she turned, she dropped her 
watch. This seemed to bring her ‘to’ for a moment, 
and she stopped and picked up the watch and 
looked at it with a concerned air, after which she” 
— here Tilly laughed so heartily and deliciously 
that Emalene joined her out of sheer good-fellow- 
ship. Tilly made several attempts to proceed to 
the point of her story, but was overcome by laugh- 
ter which prevented her. Finally getting control 
of herself, she continued : “She put it to her nose 
and inhaled violently.” Here Emalene’s peals of 
laughter interrupted the narrative, and Tilly joined 
her. Hearing these two women thus engaged, one 
would not have imagined that one was in hiding 
from the officers of the law, and the other wrest- 
ling with the problem of changing the course of her 
companion’s life. 

“I didn’t laugh at her,” Tilly continued, “al- 
though as she realized the absurdity of her action — 
putting the watch to her nose instead of her ear 
to see if the jolt had stopped it — she looked at me 
sharply. I pretended to see nothing unusual in 
the act and looked down my own nose. Now this 
J trip to the farm to-day, why was it undertaken? 
I don’t doubt your motive in keeping it from me, 
but I should like to know about it. 

» 

“Your hesitation is significant,” said Tilly. “By 
the way, I’m obliged to you for getting that renewal 
note which Louise brought me yesterday. I’d never 
have thought of it; but between you and me, he’ll 


FEMININE FINANCE 


237 


never pay it. And since he told you frankly that he 
didn’t have the money and couldn’t say when he 
would have it, as. Louise reported after seeing you 
yesterday, I know there was no occasion for you 
two to go to Sedgwick on my account. Has any- 
thing happened to Cousin Jim?” 

“Yes, I may as well confess — something has hap- 
pened to him.” 

“What? The poor old fool! I’m none too fond 
of him even if he is my cousin, but I’d hate to have 
harm come to him ! He’s nearly twenty years older 
than I am and I can’t forget that as a little girl 
I used to sit on his knee, and looked upon him as 
almost next to father. He has traded on my affec- 
tion for him often, but I can’t help feeling con- 
cerned for him sometimes.” 

Emalene’s experience was being enriched rapidly, 
and even her own liberal opinions about people and 
their limitations, being reconstructed. As she 
looked into the eager face of this woman she saw 
reflected there an affection almost maternal for the 
uninspiring Cousin Jim, who, prosperous and 
happy in his own shiftless way, scarcely interested 
his cousin, but to whom in difficulty, of whatever 
nature or from whatever cause, he became of para- 
mount concern. 

Seeing that Tilly must know in time, Emalene 
deemed it as well that she should know at once, 
so she said, seriously : 

“The day that Louise went to Sedgwick, she beat 


238 


FEMININE FINANCE 


him, and he is threatening to sue her for ten thou- 
sand dollars.” 

The effect of this announcement on the cousin of 
the afflicted one was such a hurricane of laughter 
as seemed likely to merge itself into a fit of hys- 
terics ! After she calmed herself, Emalene ex- 
plained to her the details of the encounter between 
the very correct Louise and the Connecticut farmer. 
Meanwhile, the listening one reverted to her cachin- 
nations several times with such J ovian heartiness 
that the narrative had for the time being to be sus- 
pended. When Tilly was in possession of all the 
facts, she announced her determination to go to 
him at the earliest moment possible, adding, 
thoughtfully : 

“Well, Jim’s often needed just what he has at 
last received. I’ve often longed to take a hand to 
him myself.” 


CHAPTER XIX 

When the messenger presented himself with the 
package and box, he was heartily welcome. As 
he closed the door of Emalene’s room, after she 
had paid and dismissed him, she picked up the 
paper which he had brought in, and read aloud the 
headlines, as Tilly came toward her from the se- 
clusion of the closet : “ ’s Slayer Gives Him- 

self Up. Police Baffled in Search.” 

Tilly covered her face w T ith her hands, dropped 
helplessly on the bed, and broke into the most 
heart-rending sobs. Emalene meanwhile sat still, 
and after w T hat to both seemed a long time, Tilly 
sat up and said: 

“I shall go at once to Sedgwick. I mean to stop 
Jim’s nonsense — he must not begin that suit. See 
what she has saved me — willingly or unwillingly — 
by letting me stay with her.” 

While Tilly had indulged herself in the relief 
of tears, Emalene had read something of the de- 
tails of the end of the search for the guilty man; 
and although it now appeared unlikely that Tilly 
would be required even as a witness, she asked : 

“You feel no hesitation in going out?” 

239 


240 


FEMININE FINANCE 


“No. I’m going to Jim’s to-night. I’ll go up- 
town to change my dress and then take the train 
to Sedgwick. If necessary I’ll go on to Bridge- 
port to-night to see the lawyer. Jim probably needs 
some attention, and the quicker I get there the bet- 
ter. It will be some relief not to be dodging in 
and out of closets and wearing colored maids’ 
clothes, to do something for Jim.” 

As Tilly a moment or two later was ready to 
depart, Emalene said : “Will you come right back 
here and stay? I don’t w T ant you to be uptown. 
Come straight to me and stay here until you 
leave for Australia. You’re keeping in mind, I 
hope, that you are going there. I’ll arrange for a 
room here, so that whenever you return you can 
take possession of it for a short time until we can 
plan your going away; and you can have your 
meals in your room.” 

“Yes, yes,” said Tilly. “And I’m going to leave 
for Australia as quick as I can.” 

“I’m going to arrange for you to go — I’ll man- 
age it in some way, although at this moment I 
cannot say how ; and you are not to go uptown ex- 
cept to give up your rooms and do your packing 
and dispose of such belongings as you don’t want 
to take with you.” 

“I haven’t got much except clothes, and more of 
them than I hope I shall ever need again.” 

“Now r , promise me that wdiether you return to 
town to-night or to-morrowq you’ll come right here.” 

“I’ll come back all right,” said Tilly, only too 


FEMININE FINANCE, 241 

glad to have this refuge; “but Fve got to see Jim 
at once. I will not allow him to bring that suit!” 

In fresh raiment, Tilly was set down towards 
night at Cousin Jim’s gate by the station ’bus. She 
had with her a substantial package containing cer- 
tain edibles for which she knew her cousin’s fond- 
ness. 

“Hello, Gussie,” said Cousin Jim, greeting her 
on the little porch. “How are you? You look as 
though if you felt any better you couldn’t stand it. 
But I’m all stove in.” His bandages were still in 
place, and his cousin’s semi-affectionate concern 
was no bar to her appreciation of his really comical 
appearance. 

“I only learned of your condition, Jim, a couple 
of hours ago. I got here as soon afterwards as I 
could. But I want to say right here and now that 
I’m awfully provoked that you should even be 
thinking of sueing Miss Anstey. I want you either 
to go with me, or authorize me to go alone to that 
lawyer in Bridgeport, and tell him he is not to 
move a finger toward annoying Miss Anstey in any 
such way. It would disgrace her ” 

“Disgrace her! Me disgrace her! She’s dis- 
graced herself! Nobody can’t disgrace nobody but 
themselves! Everybody does their own disgracin’. 
Nobody can do that for ’em. But she ain’t got sense 
enough to see that any more’n you have, Gussie! 
You and her thinks the disgrace is in havin’ folks 
know you been actin’ disgraceful; an’ she has, I 


242 


FEMININE FINANCE 


give you a pointer — and all the suit’ll do is to 
spread the news.” 

“Well, anyway, you’re not going to bring that 
suit, Jim. I mean what I say,” said she, firmly. 
Changing the subject suddenly, she asked : “What 
are you living on, Jim? If I had ten thousand dol- 
lars I’d bet every cent of it that you’ve had nothing 
but crackers and a little milk and coffee — possibly 
eggs, for days and days — perhaps weeks. That’s 
no way for you to live ” 

“You’d win out on that, Gus; an’ I think that’s 
pretty good livin’. Plenty folks’d be glad to get all 
they wanted of good rich milk an’ eggs an’ crack- 
ers an’ coffee — by George, I can make good cof- 
fee.” 

“I brought you some things I thought you’d 
like.” 

“That’s awful kind of you, Gus, ’cause since I’ve 
been knocked out by that pugilistic female you sent 
up here, I ain’t been able to get about much, an’ a 
change to some city things would taste good. You 
had anythin’ t’ eat lately? I’ll treat you to some 
o’ the best milk you ever tasted, an’ I ain’t got no 
bread — I couldn’t make any — but I got some good 
crackers, an’ I’ll fry or boil you a couple o’ nice 
fresh eggs — I’m quite a chef when it comes t’ boilin’ 
eggs ” 

“I had something to eat just before I took the 
train in town. Mighty good, too, it was — a thick 
steak, some lobster, and ” 


FEMININE FINANCE 


243 


“Look a-here, woman ! Don’t tell me any more ! 
Lobster!” he exclaimed hungrily. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t bring yon one — I could as 
well have brought you one as that broiled chicken 
I’ve got there, on toast.” 

“Chicken! I got plenty chickens o’ my own! 
What’s a farm for but to raise chickens on ! Bring- 
in’ me a chicken when you might just as easily 
brought a lobster ! I suppose you thought I could 
go out an’ pick a lobster off the vines, or maybe 
you thought they had to be dug like potatoes, and 
that a chicken had to be made out o’ beaten up 
eggs that was mined in Montana !” 

“Don’t be so cross. I’ll send you a lobster or 
two when I go back to town if you’re so rampant 
for a taste of claw-meat.” 

They had been sitting on the little porch thus 
far; and she now arose and entered the house by 
way of the door that led into Cousin Jim’s untidy 
room. She returned in a moment, having laid off 
her hat and gloves. “I forgot the package,” said 
she, picking it up and carrying it into the house, 
where she deposited it on the kitchen table. Cousin 
Jim’s kitchen was even more untidy than his bed- 
room, and Tilly was dismayed thereat. 

“See here, Jim,” said she, “this is no sort of way 
for a white man to live! I haven’t got time to 
fix you up now, but I hate to think any blood-rela- 
tion of mine’s living like this.” 

“I ain’t had any chance to do anythin’ for days ( 


244 


FEMININE FINANCE 


and days — since that muscular friend o’ yours vis- 
ited me.” 

“Pshaw ! Don’t tell me this condition of things 
is the result of three or four days’ neglect. Where’s 
your man — doesn’t he stay here nights?” 

“I ain’t had one for nearly a week an’ I been en- 
tirely alone except for the ladies that’s called on 
me, an’ the doctor. I seem to be gettin’ popular 
with the ladies — you’re the third that’s called on 
me in less’n a week. I ain’t had so much company 
any one week since I took to housekeepin’.” 

“How about that lawyer that you say came to 
see you?” 

“What lawyer? I ain’t told you about a lawyer 
— I ain’t said a word about one to you. What ” 

“No; but you told Miss Carruthers and Miss An- 
stey that one had been here this morning. Were 
you lying to them?” 

“Yes,” said the incorrigible fat one, “I was lyin’ 
all right. I ain’t seen no lawyer.” 

“Why did you say such a thing, Jim? You must 
quit being so untruthful.” 

“Y r ou quit your preacliin’ !” 

“Yes, I will for a while, and make that bed of 
yours look like a place for a human being to rest 
in, instead of a wild animal’s lair. Talk about dis- 
grace ! I believe in my heart that the average man, 
left to himself, would take to eating out of a trough 
and sleep in a nest of dried leaves in the woods — 
return to his wild state — if it weren’t for women. 
You need straightening up here. I’m going soon, 


FEMININE FINANCE 245 

but before I go Pm going to take a hand at that 
bed of yours. Have you any clean sheets ?” 

“I had six when I started. I don’t know where 
they are now. Look in the drawer there.” 

Tilly found a change of linen for his bed and was 
about to “make” it, to the delight of Cousin Jim, 
who sat regarding her with interest as she moved 
about the room tidying it in various ways; but 
when it came to laying the hand of desecration on 
his mattress, he exclaimed : “Hi there ! Don’t stir 
up that mattress ! I got a little nest in the middle 
of it an’ I don’t want it disturbed. I like to lay 
in one place, an’ if you rumple it up I can’t sleep 
good ; let the mattress be !” 

“Nonsense,” said Tilly. “I don’t believe in hu- 
moring men in such foolishness! This bed’s got to 
be made comfortable, and I’m going to turn this 
mattress all right.” 

And she did. Each time she flopped and beat 
it about, Cousin Jim, judged by his counte- 
nance, considered each pat and slap an injury done 
to him bodily. She whisked busily about, and 
having accomplished more toward clearing up the 
disorder than would have seemed possible in the 
time spent therein taking into account her com- 
paratively untutored state in household matters, 
said : 

“I’m going to sit down now. Come out on the 
porch with me. I’m pretty warm and tired. I 
want you to talk to me about this affair with Miss 
Anstey. You’ve told me you haven’t seen a lawyer. 


246 


FEMININE FINANCE 


Can I believe this, Jim,” she asked, as she seated 
herself opposite him on the porch. 

“Yes, you can. I ain’t seen no lawyer.” 

“Do you intend to see one about this matter?” 

“Yes, I mean to. Tilly, I owe you that five hun- 
dred dollars an’ I can’t pay it. I wrote you I 
couldn’t, an’ in spite o’ my letter you sent that ter- 
rible woman up here. Now look at me! Here’s 
what she done t’ me. I been around th’ world a 
good deal, an’ seen a good many different kinds 
o’ people in the past thirty years, an’ I never had 
a black eye before in my whole life — maybe I never 
would ’a’ had if that woman hadn’t got at me. ' An’ 
I see no way o’ payin’ you th’ money unless I sue 
her.” 

“You wrote me you couldn’t pay it? Where did 
you address me and when did you write?” 

He explained that immediately on receipt of her 
letter announcing her intention to call at the farm 
for the money on the note, he had addressed a letter 
to her at a certain theatre where she had been play- 
ing when he had last previously heard from her, 
stating his inability to make the payment. 

“Of course I didn’t get it. Had I gotten it, I 
certainly should not have sent any one up here for 
the money — nor come myself. But why did you act 
as you did toward Miss Anstey? You must have 
behaved very strangely to make her act as she 
did. Whatever else she is, she’s always been known 
as refined and well-bred. She must have been 


FEMININE FINANCE 


247 


furious at you, and you must have done something 
to make her so,” argued Tilly. 

“I tried to draw her into conversation, an’ she 
wouldn’t talk to me. An’ then I told her I had 
the money but didn’t feel inclined to give it to her. 
I ain’t such a durn fool as to want to have my eye 
blacked an’ my flesh bruised; an’ when I see she 
was gettin’ mad as a wet hen, an’ I couldn’t under- 
stand your sendin’ her up here when I wrote you 
I didn’t have the money, I went an’ set on my gate- 
post an’ acted like a bigger durn fool than I was, 
just to see if she’d go away an’ let me be; an’ if 
you’ll believe me, lady or no lady, refined or coarse 
or whatever you’re a mind to call her, she certain- 
ly did give me the time of my little life; an’ from 
this on I don’t want no women collectors cornin’ 
here — give me men for collectin’ every time; an’ 
if I can pay, I’ll pay, an’ if I can’t, I’ll just say so 
an’ shan’t have to act th’ fool an’ get my innards 
joggled out o’ place, an’ my arms an’ legs bruised. 
You ought to see my legs ! Lord — she hit me more 
cracks on my legs than any place else, an’ they’s 
bruises on ’em the size o’ silver dollars, an’ they’s 
so many of ’em I just put the ” 

“Never mind about your legs,” interrupted his 
cousin. “Now I want you to behave yourself like 
a man. Get another hired man to help you, and 
go on with the farming. And, Jim, when do you 
think you can pay me that money?” 

“As far as I know now, Gussie, never. An’ I 
can’t see why you take on so about that little gray- 


248 


FEMININE FINANCE 


eyed somebody — I never see a woman so darned 
bad-tempered and perky. I’ll bet she’d not do any- 
thing to save you from a suit or anything else ” 

“You’re mistaken. She has saved me from some- 
thing, Jim. Bad-tempered or not, she’s done me a 
great favor, and I need that money right away.” 
She rather expected him to ask about h6r recent 
difficulty, but he was wary and betrayed no curios- 
ity on the subject, replying to her last words : 

“I ain’t got it, an’ I don’t know where I could 
get it. Maybe I could — I don’t say positive — when 
that note comes due again.” 

“But I must have it right away if it’s to do me 
any good. I don’t know what to do. But any- 
way you must brace up and keep the farm going 
right. Get a man if you have to go shares with 
him. You’ll never get anywhere at this rate. Sim- 
ply owning the farm and letting things slide isn’t 
farming. Even I know that much.” 

“I know; I’m goin’ to take holt soon and raise 
the devil ” 

“Better raise your crops and chickens and tur- 
keys, and let the devil alone. He doesn’t need rais- 
ing — he’s already raised and stepping too high.” 

“Preachin’ again?” 

“If you can raise that money for me, I’ll give it 
back to you, make you a present of it, Jim, as soon 
as I get where I have it to give, if I ever do. But 
you’ve got to brace up and take some interest in 
the farm. Things look pretty seedy here to me, 
or did, as I came up in the wagon.” 


FEMININE FINANCE 


249 


"What d’vou expect, with me all bunged up ” 

“Oh, nonsense! This look of things hasn’t come 
on in two days nor two months.” 

“But the last two men I’ve had were good-for- 

nothing lazy-bones, an’ ” 

“You’re pretty lazy yourself. They take their 
cue from you. You stir yourself and see how much 
better your men will do.” 

“But I’m gettin’ an old man, Tilly — an old man,” 
shaking his head dolefully. 

“Don’t lay so much stress on being old — get up 
and dust. I’m going to take my own advice. I’m 

going to quit the stage and ” 

“What! Well, I never! An’ you as young as 
what you are! Why lots of ’em that’s friskin’ 
about as chipper as birds is ten or twelve years 
older’n you, an’ no thought o’ givin’ up for twenty 
years so far as they show by their actions. Why, 
the last time I was in town I saw Mallie Malligan, 
that wasn’t so very young when they put Ermine 
on twenty years ago. She was eatin’ at Thornton's 
after the play an’ with a boy that I do believe was 
just out of short socks. She’s lost her figger, an’ 
the peroxide was getting pretty far from the roots, 
but never mind ! She was happy, and so was he, ap- 
parently. He seemed to be liberal with his roll. 
It was ‘Dad’s rich, durn the expense’ with him. 
Some o’ them young fellers kitin’ around with 
them old gals on upper Broadway ought to be pre- 
sented with rattles and teething rings. Say, Tilly,” 
changing the subject abruptly, “how about that 


250 


FEMININE FINANCE 


little brick that came here yesterday? Miss Car- 
ruthers — now she’s all right ” 

“Yes, she is, Jim; she’s a brick, a gold brick, a 
solid one.” 

“Now she’s got what I call a good disposition; 
she’s all right,” he repeated, having in these three 
words apparently exhausted his commendatory vo- 
cabulary. 

“Are you hurt as badly as you ‘let on?’ ” asked 
Tilly. 

“Yes, Tilly, I am. I’m hurt bad. I may be hurt 
internal, an’ unable to work ever.” 

“Well, you must not bring suit against 'Miss An- 
stey if ever you want me to be friends with you. 
This is straight. I’ll never again take the slight- 
est notice of you if you see a lawyer. But if you’ll 
promise to behave yourself, let lawyers alone — 
neither go to them nor have them come to you about 
this matter, nor write them any letters about it, 
I’ll do all I can for you, which just now isn’t any- 
thing ; besides which I’ll bring you a lobster or two 
the next time I come here, or send you some. I 
may not always be down on my luck as I am now.” 

“If I brought the suit I could pay you the five 
hundred dollars — she’s got lots of money — she’s 
rich, and stingy as the dickens. I found out that 
much about her.” 

“How much she’s got and how stingy she is, is 
none of our business, Jim. What’s hers is her own 
to do with as she pleases. We’ve nothing to do 
with that.” 


FEMININE FINANCE 


251 


“W hat’s she done for you?” asked he, betrayed 
into a question; and then, as though afraid she 
would answer, he hastened to say : “I noticed she 
didn’t seem any too proud o’ knowin’ you. She 
made a great deal of haste and spread to tell me 
that she used to know you when you was both kids 
an’ that she hadn’t known or even seen you until 
the day before she was here.” 

“That’s straight. She’d seen me only once since 
school days until I went to her on Monday morn- 
ing.” 

“Did you know the little one, too?” 

“I never saw her till Tuesday morning.” 

“The doctor says I mustn’t work for a while. I 
don’t know what to do. I feel discouraged, Tilly. 
I hate to go ag’inst you, but I’d kind o’ banked on 
that suit.” 

“Jim, if you brought the suit, you’d have only 
a bare chance of winning, don’t you see? She’d em- 
ploy big lawyers, and, well — anyway, her word 
would go further than yours — I don’t like to re- 
mind you of that ; but I do want to impress on your 
mind that you’d have a better chance to lose than 
to win the suit, and might have to give up your 
farm to pay your lawyer, as you’ve nothing else, 
and lawyers don’t like waiting for their money, as 
I know. Besides that — now mark me well — you’d 
lose me the minute you began that suit, or I found 
out that you’d been talking to lawyers about this 
case. Don’t go talking to lawyers or anybody else 


252 FEMININE FINANCE 

about this matter of Miss Anstey’s — don’t mention 
her name.” 

“But I hate to give up haulin’ her up in the 
court! Lord! I’d like to take a fall out o’ her 
pride. She needs it, and I need the money bad. 
I’d be doing her a favor, don’t you see? I can’t 
see to save me, why you and Miss Carruthers — 
you’re both better women than that prim little cat 
— should be so particularly careful o’ her and her 
feelin’s. She could give both of you points on get- 
tin’ there every time. You trust her for gettin’ 
whatever she wants in this world, or knowin’ why. 
She ain’t near so careful of herself as you two are 
of her. If she was she wouldn’t ’a’ treated me as 
she did.” 

“Just the same, the minute I hear of your men- 
tioning her name to a lawyer, or to anybody else 
except Miss Carruthers, I’ll drop you like a hot 
potato; and not only that, I’ll bring suit on that 
note, and the first thing you’d know you mightn’t 
have your farm. You hear? I don’t like to be ugly 
to you, Jim, but in this I’m going to be absolutely 
firm. I’ll do anything — everything — I can for 
you to help you along if you do as I want you to 
about this case, and nothing, absolutely nothing, 
ever again, if you don’t! I don’t need to remind 
you that you haven’t so many friends that you can 
afford to lose any — least of all me.” 

“I know, Tilly; you was alwus good t’ me — bet- 
ter’n anybody ever was, except your father. 
He ” 


FEMININE FINANCE 


253 


“Make up your mind — give me your word either 
way — and whichever way you decide, stick to it — 
quit lying — and then I’ll know what to do, how to 
act, whether to send you that lobster, and money 
to help carry on the farm, as soon as I get any, 
or change my name, and never let you find me again. 
Come Jim, speak up ! You haven’t got much more 
time. I ordered the station wagon to come for me 
at nine, and it’s nearly that now. I’ve got a bag 
at the station. I may stay at the hotel in the vil- 
lage for the night, or I may go back to New York.” 

“It’s hard t’ give up, Tilly. If I give up this here 
suit I may have to ” 

“There’s no ‘may’ about it; if you begin that suit 
— you will positively lose me. Keep your farm and 
me as a friend, or bring the suit and take the chance 
of losing the suit and with it your farm, and posi- 
tively losing me ! Few, however stupid, would hesi- 
tate long over such a proposition. Leaving out of 
the question everything except the dollars and cents 
— all consideration of my feelings — I’d have to be 
brought into the matter in a very disagreeable way 
if you brought the suit — all respect for yourself, 
you’d be a by- word to everybody that’s ever known 
you, Jim Holliday, they’d give you enough of your 
letting a woman beat you, you ought to give up 
and do as I want you to.” 

During this, Cousin Jim had been looking very 
serious, though she could scarcely see his face in 
the shadow, as they sat on the little porch in the 


254 


FEMININE FINANCE 


early light of the summer night. A second or two 
after Tilly ceased speaking, he said : 

“Just the same, I’ll take chances on the suit. I 
ain’t goin’ t’ let no woman come t’ my house and 
put me in such a condition that I’m all out o’ con- 
dition, an’ ” 

“Very well. You didn’t tell the doctor how you 
were injured, did you?” 

“No, I was ashamed. He thinks I been in a 
fight with a man. I told him it was a fight, without 
goin’ into particulars: naturally he don’t think it 
was a woman that made me look like this.” 


CHAPTER XX 


Tilly having* departed, Emalene finished her 
packing, hesitating whether or not to go to the 
country, and, as things had turned out, more in- 
clined to stay than to go. 

Remembering her harsh words to Louise after 
leaving Cousin Jim’s she was uneasy in her mind 
and knew she would not be less so until she had 
made her peace with Louise. She *was not unmind- 
ful of her friend’s part in the wordy contest, but 
had no doubt that if she led the way in apology, 
Louise would follow. The evening being fine, she 
took the stage to Ninth Street, and was soon at the 
house. 

Mrs. Hatfield, large, calm and dignified, was in 
the room with Louise when Emalene entered. Hav- 
ing received the servants’ report of the accident, the 
landlady had climbed the stairs to inspect the dam- 
age done thereby, and Emalene listened to a full 
recital of the excitement of the burst water-pipe, 
as though for the first time. After Mrs. Hatfield 
had taken leave, Louise asked : 

“Where do you suppose she is?” 

“I suppose you mean Tilly. I know where she 
255 


256 


FEMININE FINANCE 


is. She is either at or on the way to Cousin Jim’s.” 
Emalene then related Tilly’s call upon her, send- 
ing for her clothes and the return of Martha’s ; the 
report of the finding of the criminal, and Tilly’s 
suspicion that other than ordinary collection meth- 
ods had been employed at Cousin Jim’s farm. She 
enlarged on the gratitude of Tilly to Louise for 
shelter during her time of distress, and her de- 
sire and declared intention to prevent any legal 
action against Louise on the part of Cousin Jim. 
As Emalene finished, Louise said quickly, as though 
to distract attention from the point upon which 
Emalene insisted so strenuously: 

“Think of Martha’s not saying a word about hav- 
ing seen her! I couldn’t imagine how she might 
have escaped ; and to be candid, I went frantically 
through my things to assure myself that she hadn’t 
‘burgled’ me. Tilly told me she stole the coat she 
wore here. She must have been desperate to have 
worn Martha’s things. No one would have be- 
lieved from Martha’s manner that she knew there 
was any such person as Tilly in the world. I won- 
der how she justifies herself in letting any unknown 
and mysterious woman go out of my room unchal- 
lenged when she had been found there so strangely. 
For all Martha knew to the contrary she might have 
been departing with all I own in the way of small 
valuables.” 

“Martha’s kind heart guided her to your advan- 
tage. Doubtless, smart girl that she is, she had 
suspicions, but she chose the better part and didn’t 


FEMININE FINANCE 


257 


allow them to govern her actions. Risking even 
her dearly-beloved finery in the cause, she served 
you well, so you ought to be grateful to her that 
she let her go instead of raising a fuss and bring- 
ing all sorts of questions upon you, if nothing 
worse. She could easily enough see that the woman 
was taking nothing valuable with her — she saw her 
dress and accompanied her to the door — and, as 
well, understand that if even her garments were 
locked up, few valuables were likely to be left where 
she could get them.” 

“I should, however, like to ask Martha how she 
justified herself in doing this.” 

“I wouldn’t, Louise. I’d simply ignore the whole 
thing. I’d never — no,” she said, reflecting a mo- 
ment — “now that I think of it, I believe I would 
ask her. It might give her the opportunity she’s 
longing for to relieve her mind. She may be suf- 
fering under doubts as to the propriety of her 
course.” 

“Perhaps I will ask her,” said Louise. 

“We have been so busy doing what I declared I 
never would do with you — discussing Tilly and her 
affairs — that I’ve lost sight of the thing I came 
here for to-night : to apologize to you for the harsh 
words I said at Sedgwick to-day. Do forgive me — 
it seems awful for us to have quarreled.” 

“Has it ever occurred to you,” said Louise, “that 
in a way our friendship is a prolonged quarrel? 
You never do as I want you to do, and I’m always 
dissatisfied with — not you — but the things you do. 


258 


FEMININE FINANCE 


I thought of it after you left me to-day. I felt so 
terribly bereft, and really didn’t know that I’d 
ever again speak to you. And when you walked 
in here to-night I never was more surprised, al- 
though in Mrs. Hatfield’s presence I couldn’t ex- 
press it. Do you realize that we are seldom to- 
gether that we’re not in a sense quarreling? I’m 
always wanting you to do one way and you’re al- 
ways doing another. You were pretty hard on me 
to-day, but of course I forgive you.” 

“I’m sorry for every harsh word I said, Louise. 
I shouldn’t have said them, although I was under 
strong provocation ” 

“Provocation! Why? Why? What?” 

“Goosie — control yourself! You’re not accept- 
ing my apology in what would be called a very 
proper spirit, and we are pretty near quarreling 
again. I’m going home.” 

“No; stay the night with me. I’ll ring for 
Martha to put up a cot for you.” 

“I’m all packed, and I didn’t know but that I’d 
leave town early to-morrow morning.” 

“Staying the night here needn’t interfere with 
] your going, should you conclude to go.” 

Emalene allowed herself to be persuaded to stay, 
not knowing whether or not Tilly would return to 
town for the night. 

“Kemember that I’m not yet out of the woods,” 
said Louise. “That’s why I want you to stay and 
talk with me. I have still to think of that terrible 
Cousin Jim and what he may do to me for trying 


FEMININE FINANCE 


259 


to collect that money for his cousin. I wish I’d 
never seen either of them.” 

“But I don’t see how, considering what you’ve 
done to Cousin Jim, and Tilly’s gratitude to you 
for sheltering her during this trying time, you can 
ignore their claims — Tilly’s on your sympathy and 
love, and Cousin Jim’s on your sense of honor and 
justice.” 

“Don’t talk nonsense, Emalene. That woman has 
no claim on me. You talk of love as if it were some- 
thing to be given to anybody and everybody! I’d 
find it hard to love anyone of the physical, mental 
and moral make-up of Tilly Baxter! And as for 
that cousin of hers! If he got his deserts he’d not 
be at large.” 

“I wouldn’t speak of it again if my determination 
to help Tilly were not so fixed. Tilly doesn’t show 
her best side to you. She isn’t what I’d call meek 
and lowly — is not at all, never could be, a gentle- 
woman ; but there’s something about her that makes 
me believe that with the proper environment she’d 
be a good woman.” 

“What, in your opinion, would be a proper en- 
vironment for such a woman and at her age? With 
her experience, where could she go? What could she 
do? She couldn’t — probably wouldn’t — work. Her 
habits were formed long ago and they are not those 
of industry or prudence or anything else worth 
while.” 

“A home among friends who know her faults 
and love her in spite of them, would work wonders 


2G0 


FEMININE FINANCE 


in her; would be very near solving her problem, I 
think. She says there is such a place; and I be- 
lieve it’s our duty — yours and mine — to aid her to 
reach it.” 

“Assuming that she’s telling the truth, what 
would she do if she got there? Probably disrupt 
her friend’s home.” 

“If we did all we could for her with the right 
motives, we wouldn’t need to worry about the re- 
sult. I’d be willing in her cause to risk the conse- 
quences being all we could ask. I believe the way 
would be opened for her out there. I’ve no more 
doubt of what she says of that family out there, 
than I should have of anything you’d say to me, 
Louise.” 

“Just what does she say?” 

“That a woman cronj^ of hers several years ago 
married a mutual friend of theirs and that they 
are like brother and sister to her, and constantly 
urging her to come and make her home with them 
in Australia. She says they have two beautiful 
children — one of them named for her — and that she 
is very fond of them all.” 

“If they want her why don’t they send her money 
to take her there?” 

“They may not know that she hasn’t the money 
to take her there. I fancy this is the only time the 
notion of going to them has been so strong upon 
her. It may also be the only time she’s been so 
short of money, though she did say — anyway she 


FEMININE FINANCE 261 

should go right now while the repentant mood and 
the chastening effect of this tragedy remains.” 

“If she got there, could these people take care 
of her?” 

Emalene was encouraged by Louise’s willingness 
to thus discuss the pros and cons of Tilly’s future 
with her, and replied : 

“I don’t know. She didn’t say what their circum- 
stances are, but I assumed she felt sure of being 
taken care of. If she got out there she might 
marry.” 

“Marry! Who’d marry her? Would you wish 
any man on earth such a fate?” 

“I only suggested that as a possibility. Thou- 
sands of worse women are married every day. And 
please bear in mind that there are thousands, hun- 
dreds of thousands, of men in the world who are no 
better than she is, and who would care to marry no 
other type of woman; who, married to that sort of 
woman, seem to get an average amount of comfort 
and peace — as they regard comfort and peace — out 
of life. All people haven’t your and my ideals. I 
was reminded a few minutes ago when you men- 
tioned your suspicions that Tilly might have robbed 
you, that, in common with a good many others, you 
seem to think that sins of sex imply all sins. I 
do not. I’d no sooner suspect Tilly of a thievish 
act than I would you. There’s more than one kind 
of lust. The great majority of people have money- 
lust, and I’m not sure but that, carried to its ulti- 


262 


FEMININE FINANCE 


mate, is not just as far-reaching in its evil effects as 
the sin we usually associate with that word ” 

“Hear! hear! You’re getting positively indeli- 
cate, Emalene. I’m shocked. It all comes of hav- 
ing a woman like that about — it’s demoraliz- 
ing ” 

“Demoralizing! Shocking! To two full-grown, 
intelligent women of this generation ! I’m not de- 
moralized nor shocked! I may be lacking in re- 
finement, but as I’ve told you before, I’d rather 
be vulgar than unnecessarily refined. Now,” she 
smiled, “as I said away back in my sermon — it 
must have been near secondly — allowance must be 
made for different sorts of people and their ideals.” 

“The longer I know you, the more sorts and 
kinds I discover in you,” Louise interrupted, and 
Emalene continued : 

“Highly intellectual, cultivated, refined men 
would flee such a woman as they would a pestilence ; 
and yet there have been some notable cases in which 
exactly that type of man has married Tilly’s type 
of woman, with disastrous consequences, of course. 
But all men are not refined and cultivated nor all 
women of Tilly’s sort, and she’s good enough for 
thousands who would be glad to marry her — ” 

“Think of two such people marrying !” 

“I am thinking of it. Many of them are mar- 
ried, and getting along rather better so, I fancy, 
than Tilly would, to continue along in her old way. 
I wouldn’t be so earnest about this were it not that 
I’m sure she’s entirely out of conceit with the sort 


FEMININE FINANCE 


263 


of life she has been leading. She hasn’t a place on 
the earth to go, except to those Australians. It 
seems terrible, doesn’t it?” 

“Yes, it does, I’ll admit; but you and I are in 
nowise to blame for that fact, and not concerned in 
it, that I can see. I sheltered her while she needed 
shelter. Not only that: I put aside my work, went 
to Connecticut and did the hardest day’s work I 
ever did ” 

Emalene’s benevolent intentions did not preclude 
her smiling at this allusion to her friend’s inter- 
view with Cousin Jim. But as Louise ignored the 
smile, she listened seriously enough, while the lat- 
ter continued : 

“I made myself liable to the law in keeping her, 
and also liable to pay a large sum because of her! 
I’m through with her and her sort. Doubtless 
there are many of her kind, who beginning to see 
the folly of misspent lives, would be glad enough to 
have women whose lives have been rational, many 
of whose homes have been wrecked by the riotous 
living of these sirens, make sacrifices in order 
that these same sirens may coddle their self-love 
by sneaking away to other and far-distant coun- 
tries, where their ill-deeds are not known, nor the 
consequences thereof likely to follow them. But I’ll 
not lend countenance to such deception.” 

“Yes, Louise, I’m glad to believe that there are 
many women who would gladly turn from their 
follies; but we only know this one. Personally I 
k feel that we have a duty toward her — that in her 


264 


FEMININE FINANCE 


case I am given an opportunity that I cannot let 
pass without regretting it. And I am in this case 
only incidentally — remember that. She came to 
you, Louise, sought you out as the one good woman 
whom she knew who could, and she thought would, 
help her ” 

“I did help her, and, thank heaven, I’m through. 
I’ll never have anything like that to go through 
again. I mean to see to it that I don’t. But Tilly’s 
getting stale as a topic — having departed, hence- 
forth I’ll know her no more,” said Louise, with a 
melo-dramatic gesture. “But I may have to con- 
sider Cousin Jim ! What shall I do about him?” 

“I have no suggestion to make that has any 
novelty.” 

“I must consult a lawyer. It’ll probably cost 
me a lot of money, too. Mr. Church, one of fath- 
er’s oldest friends, has always looked after my legal 
affairs, as you know. His offices are in Hartford. 
But he has never had occasion to do anything but 
attend to investments and collections and such 
matters for me. I’d never tell him I was mixed 
up in a mess like this — I couldn’t. He, poor gen- 
tleman, would die of shame, I think, if I mentioned 
such a matter to him. Do you know a lawyer?” 

“Yes, I know several — some very successful ones. 
But, before you consult a lawyer, let’s await a re- 
port from Tilly. She may bring one which will 
settle the whole matter. At any rate, I’d wait until 
the other side took some definite step. But if you 
take legal advice, wouldn’t it be wiser, since Mr. 


FEMININE FINANCE 


265 


Church knows all about you and was your father’s 
counsel, to go to him? He’d doubtless pull you out 
of this strait easily.” 

“Money wouldn’t tempt me to tell him about this ! 
Besides, I want to know at once, and he’s away.” 

“Once more — since you’re so determined to go 
to a lawyer — why not listen to reason? We got 
Cousin Jim so near the point of yielding to-day 
that I’m sure he’d waive all his claims if you’d 
give Tilly that amount, take the note, and return 
it to him. It would cost you that to retain a law- 
yer that was worth while, besides all the rest of the 
expense, not mentioning the humiliation.” 

“No, no, Emalene, I will not. I’ll see a lawyer 
here. It won’t cost much. You’re foolish to sup- 
pose that lawyers make money at such a rate. 
I’m going to find out if Cousin Jim has any reason- 
able ground for a suit.” 

“If you’re determined, I’ll stay in town — I’d 
about concluded to give up my vacation anyway 
and devote it to getting Tilly off — and try to see 
Mr. Gray for you. I don’t know at all if he would 
be willing to undertake such a case. I fancy he’d 
be rather high-priced if he did. But if he doesn’t 
take it — I don’t think he ever goes to court — he 
might recommend some smart young fellow who 
would take it. Oh,” with a sudden inspiration, 
“if through Mr. Gray you could get a cheaper man 
who would take the case and save you, say a hun- 
dred dollars, would you give it to Tilly, to help 
her toward getting away?” 


266 


FEMININE FINANCE 


Louise laughed aloud, exclaiming: “You mer- 
cenary little creature! Was ever anyone so coldly 
financial? You’ll be trading in church-steeples and 
prayer-books next to aid you in carrying out your 
scheme for encouraging a bad woman to be worse. 
Incorrigible !” 

“I’m serious, Louise,” said she, thoughtfully. “I 
want the money and at present I see no earthly way 
of getting it. First and last I’ve had a good deal 
of money given me for various objects, nearly all 
in small amounts. People have been very sweet 
to me when I’ve mentioned certain cases, and I 
don’t believe I’ve made myself a nuisance in such 
ways. I’ve never before needed so large an amount. 
I couldn’t ask my men friends to help me get the 
amount together, not that I’m a prude, but I’d hate 
to. The only woman among my friends, besides 
yourself, that can be considered as a possibility 
in the case, is Rosamond Gray, and she generally 
has her money tied up in such hard knots, trying 
to do so much more with it than can be done, that 
I can’t think of her as a probability. Besides, in 
this age of differentiation of effort, specialization 
of labor, even benevolence, seeks special and chosen 
fields. Rosamond, therefore, makes the needs of 
young girls and children her care — her maternal in- 
stincts seem to find play in that way — so I don’t 
believe she’d give me a penny for Tilly. But I’m 
going to get the money. Once I get Tilly on the cars 
I shall wash my hands of her, but until she starts 
I shall feel that she’s mine to care for.” 


FEMININE FINANCE 


267 


“Go downstairs to the telephone, Emalene, and 
let your landlady know you’ll not be home to- 
night. Martha will put up the cot for you here,” 
said Louise. 


CHAPTER XXI 


On reaching Sedgwick after leaving the farm, 
Tilly decided to return to New York for the night. 
She therefore presented herself at Mrs. Pierson’s 
at a reasonable retiring hour. Emalene had told 
her landlady as much of the circumstances sur- 
rounding Tilly as she deemed wise, and as Mrs. 
Pierson’s confidence in her interesting little board- 
er demanded, which was not very much. In tele- 
phoning from Louise’s, Emalene had requested 
that Miss Holliday be acquainted with her own in- 
tention to spend the night in Ninth Street. 

Early the following morning Emalene reached 
home to find Tilly awaiting her, apparently de- 
lighted to be where she was. At once Emalene de- 
cided to forego her vacation and spend the time in 
an effort to arrange financially and otherwise for 
Tilly’s departure. She therefore unpacked her 
trunk and dispatched a letter to Rosamond Gray, 
explaining briefly that she w T as giving up her vaca- 
tion in order to help a sister woman, the details 
of whose case she w T ould relate when she and Rosa- 
mond next met. 

She also communicated to Louise, Cousin Jim’s 
refusal to slake his thirst for revenge in ways other 
268 


FEMININE FINANCE 


269 


than by recourse to the law. Therefore, at her re- 
quest, she telephoned Geoffrey Gray during the 
morning to ask if, in the event of his being at liberty 
for the evening, he would call upon her. He prom- 
ised to be with her at any moment she might name, 
and expressed surprise that she should still be in 
town. 

Later in the morning she went with Tilly to the 
latter’s apartment, which consisted of three rooms 
in a semi-respectable lodging-house, and spent the 
rest of the day in helping her pack such of her be- 
longings as she cared to take on her journey. Her 
few effects other than clothing had to be given 
away. Tilly seemed not only willing, but eager, 
to begin these preparations for leaving, even with 
the money for the journey still unprovided. She 
apparently had the utmost confidence that the little 
woman working cheerfully beside her would prove 
herself equal to that or any other undertaking. 

Emalene’s mind was busy with ways and means 
to procure the money, and doing it quickly. One 
plan and another was revolved in her thoughts, 
only to be abandoned ; and the day ended with the 
problem unsolved. 

In the evening, with Mr. Gray, she walked down 
Fifth Avenue to Ninth Street, to call upon Louise. 
But few pedestrians were abroad on the avenue. 
The vehicles consisted mostly of motor-cars that 
flashed past them and a moment later vanished in 
the distance, and the antiquated lumbering stages, 
top-heavy with those who appreciate a midsummer 


FEMININE FINANCE 


270 

night’s view along the route at an elevation. The 
rows of electric lights, terminating at Washington 
Arch, lent enchantment to the scene. When they 
reached the beautiful Old First Church at Twelfth 
Street, the moon was glorifying its ivy-clad tower, 
and intensifying the shadow in which the vine- 
covered manse was shrouded. Seasoned New York- 
ers as they were, and often as they had beheld this 
precious land-mark of lower Fifth Avenue, they 
stood at one point and another to feast their eyes 
on its beautiful lines, with the result that their 
arrival at Louise’s was considerably delayed. 

During their talk, Emalene had, in explaining 
to Mr. Gray her presence in town, made light of 
relinquishing her vacation. She did not tell him 
why she was giving it up, but told him that Miss 
Anstey was in a perplexity that seemed to call for 
legal help ; that upon hearing from Louise a state- 
ment of the facts of her case, he could decide 
whether or not he would represent her. 

She was pleased to note, as they settled them- 
selves to talk, that Louise’s desk-light was turned 
on, and assumed that she had made good use of the 
day on her manuscript. After a few moments’ gen- 
eral conversation, Emalene introduced the subject 
nearest Louise’s heart, and her own, by saying: 

“I have told Mr. Gray that you wish to con- 
sult him about the matter that’s vexing you, Louise, 
and if you prefer, I’ll go down to the drawing-room 
and wait while you state your case.” 

“By no means. I haven’t anything to say that 


FEMININE FINANCE 271 

you may not hear; that you don’t already know. 
Don’t go.” 

Between them they enlightened the man as to 
Louise’s predicament. Emalene spoke only when 
called upon by Louise to do so. He was so sym- 
pathetic , so chivalrous, that Louise went to lengths 
in describing her state of mind, her acts, her 
motives, which she would have been far from em- 
ploying with a man less well-bred, strong and 
knightly. Emalene was not a little surprised at 
the particularity of her statement, and heartily 
wished her less emphatic in her speech. When 
Louise finished, he asked a few well-directed ques- 
tions, and advised that a Connecticut lawyer be 
retained in the event of Cousin Jim’s bringing an 
action. He was of opinion, from the facts present- 
ed, the picture of Cousin Jim, his relations with 
Tilly, and his environment, that his threat to bring 
suit was a threat merely. He himself could not 
take the case, but was glad to advise her, and in 
the event that any papers were served upon her 
in the matter, he was to be communicated with at 
once, when he would be glad to recommend to her 
a man who would serve her honestly, capably, and 
for a reasonable fee. With this statement on his 
part, the object of the call being accomplished and 
dismissed as a topic, the trio spent an evening so 
pleasant that what had engrossed Louise and Ema- 
lene at its beginning became a small and regrettable 
part of the whole. 

To Louise, whose contact with men of what she 


272 


FEMININE FINANCE 


regarded her own social and intellectual status had 
been limited, this man was a revelation. His calm 
strength, his physical and mental poise, his charm, 
his cultivation, his distinguished presence, his as- 
sured position, all contributed to an impression 
which never before had been made upon her. 

When Emalene and Mr. Gray took their leave, 
it was to mount to the top of one of the stages and 
ride uptown, fascinated by the experience, as 
though enjoying it for the first time. 

Emalene’ s day with Tilly, while it had brought 
no solution of the problem of how to get the 
money, had not weakened her faith that in some 
way it could be accomplished. The following morn- 
ing she called on Louise early and asked that lady 
to lend her the five hundred dollars needed to get 
Tilly comfortably to Australia among her friends. 
Louise at once w r rote a cheque for the amount to 
Emalene’s order, and as she took it from her, the 
latter said : “Pm sure Fll find a way to pay you.” 

“If you shouldn’t, Emalene, what would you do?” 

“What would you do f I think that’s the more 
pertinent question. Some might think it an im- 
pertinent one. What do you say?” 

Louise was feeling especially genial this morn- 
ing, evinced by the readiness with which she com- 
plied with Emalene’s request for the loan. She 
had, in a sense, on hearing Geoffrey Gray’s opinion 
that the dreaded suit would never be instituted, 
cast her burden away. This had seemed to revive 
her whole mental and physical being and changed 


FEMININE FINANCE 


273 


her whole outlook on life. She might continue her 
work, think the same thoughts, do the same things, 
but life could never again be the same well-ordered, 
well-considered, unemotional thing it had been up 
to the time of her meeting Geoffrey Gray. It was 
therefore with something akin to pleasure that she 
wrote the cheque for Emalene, who, having on the 
way to Louise, stopped at a stationer’s and pur- 
chased a promissory note blank, filled it in, agree- 
ing to pay in six months to Miss Anstey the amount 
of the cheque with interest at six per cent. This 
she handed to Louise with a little smile, saying : 

“You know, Louise, I shall owe this forever rather 
than cheat you out of it.” 

“Never mind, I’ll trust you.” 

“Now I’m going to send my big girl off to Aus- 
tralia. I shall be busy enough because I want to 
get her off to-night, as nearly all the packing is 
done, and w T e’ve only to buy the tickets and attend 
to the luggage.” 

Emalene took her leave and returned to announce 
to Tilly that Louise had advanced the money, not 
communicating to her the fact that she had obli- 
gated herself to repay it. Nor was Tilly advised of 
the plan to which she had attempted to get Louise’s 
consent regarding the transfer of Cousin Jim’s 
paper. And since by advancing the money to Ema- 
lene and accepting her note as a guarantee of its 
repayment Louise had signified her determination 
not to agree to it, Emalene deemed it useless to ac- 
quaint the beneficiary with the fact that there had 


274 


FEMININE FINANCE 


been such a proposition. She did, however, tell 
her of her effort and failure to get the farmer to 
waive his claim against Louise. Upon hearing this, 
Tilly proposed that, together, they should go to 
Sedgwick, after the trunks should have been dis- 
patched to the station, and make a joint appeal to 
him for the disclaimer. 

Emalene believed that, whatever might be 
Louise’s attitude toward any supposititious claim 
of Tilly’s upon her, she would ultimately come to 
see that Cousin Jim, at least, had a valid one, and 
compensate him liberally for voluntarily (?) waiv- 
ing his rights thereunder. With this in mind she 
went with renewed courage at the task of inducing 
him to sign the waiver. Grown suddenly far-sighted 
as to monetary chances, she reckoned somewhat on 
Cousin Jim’s turning over to Tilly the money 
which, according to her faith, Louise was to give 
him as a free-will offering, when he should have 
given her the paper. This money, she did not 
doubt, Tilly would turn over either to herself or 
to Louise. Thus would Louise be reimbursed. All 
this, however, was quite apart from her willing- 
ness, should neither of these problematical happen- 
ings come to pass, to repay Louise by her own ef- 
forts. 

Louise’s cheque was cashed, the tickets pur- 
chased, and after the trunks were sent to the sta- 
tion, the chorus woman and her small friend went 
to Sedgwick by the afternoon express. 


CHAPTER XXII 


Tilly and Emalene had had time while packing 
Tilly’s belongings the previous day, to discuss the 
likelihood of Cousin Jim’s carrying out his threat. 
And Emalene, now imbued with the belief that he 
would not sue, had purchased at the stationer’s 
early in the morning, a blank form of waiver, and 
with her own hand filled it out with the name of 
Louise J. Anstey. She hoped to have Cousin Jim’s 
signature thereto, properly attested, and be able 
to present it to Louise when next they met. 

Tilly, her heart beating high with gratitude for 
the good fortune that had come to her in the where- 
withal to go to her far-away friends, fairly glowed 
and beamed. Near the Forty-second Street station 
she stopped at a fishmonger’s and had put in a 
small basket, two lobsters, with which to assist 
in the propitiation of her lobster-hungry cousin, 
and also to make good her promise to him. 

Cousin Jim greeted them on the little porch. He 
seemed somewhat more cheerful and active than 
when his cousin had last seen him, and he had cast 
such of his bandages as had been visible to ordinary 
eyes, though his cheek and forehead were bruised, 
and his eyes still unsightly. 

275 


276 


FEMININE FINANCE 


The women at once began their cajolery and ar- 
gument. He was still obdurate, clinging tenacious- 
ly to the notion of making by suit against Louise, 
the money to pay the note which his cousin held 
against him, and do various other things. He also 
held, apparently with even more strenuousness, to 
the idea of the sweetness of the revenge he would 
wreak upon the much-respected cause of his pain- 
ful aches and bruises, by exposing her to the shafts 
of ridicule. 

Tilly began by repeating her promise to share 
with him whatever luck the future might hold for 
her if he would but sign the waiver which Emalene 
showed him, and which he read over and handed 
back to her, replying to his cousin : 

“But you mightn’t ever have any more luck ! A 
bird in th’ hand’s worth half a dozen in the shrub- 
bery. You been good t’ me — I ain’t deny in’ that, 
Tilly; but you might never have any more chances 
to be good to me, an’ here I’d be, givin’ up a chance 
t’ get a livin’ all the rest o’ my days. An’ what 
for? Just to save a spitfire from what’s cornin’ to 
her. If I had ten thousand dollars ’t put on this 
farm, or even five, or if I didn’t want to put it in 
the farm, put it in the savin’s bank at four per., 
I’d have enough t’ supply me over an’ above .what 
I make out o’ th’ farm, besides givin’ you the five 
hundred an’ gettin’ back my note. You’re just 
like all women — no head for business, an’ don’t 
know the value of money. You never did.” 

“You seem to know all about what money is for, 


FEMININE FINANCE 277 

Jim. There’s no doubt about that,” replied Tilly, 
coldly. 

“But you ain’t got ordinary common-sense when 
it comes to the worth o’ money.” 

“ Admitting that, what has it to do with the fact 
that I want you to sign this waiver? If you don’t 
you may never see me again; and I’ll positively 
never do one cent’s worth more for you in any way 
whatever, even if I should have millions.” 

“I’m goin’ t’ think about it, Gussie. It was aw- 
fully nice an’ kind of you to bring me them lob- 
sters. I’m goin’ t’ have ’em for supper. Can’t you 
an’ Miss Carruthers stay?” he asked, hospitably. 

“No, we must return to town; we can’t possibly 
stay,” said Emalene. “We will leave this paper 
here. If you conclude to sign it, go before a notary 
in the village— here’s the money for the fee — and 
sign and have it witnessed, and send it to me so 
that I’ll get it promptly. A great deal depends on 
my getting it,” she thought she might add, “and 
besides, I know you’ll be a happier man. You’ll 
please me, you’ll keep your cousin’s friendship, 
you’ll relieve Miss Anstey, and be sure to reap a 
reward, assuming that you need one for doing good 
to those who despitefully use and persecute you, 
if in no other way, in the peace of mind that al- 
ways comes from forgetting one’s injuries, and for- 
giving those who have inflicted them.” 

“All that’s very fine, Miss Carruthers,” said Cousin 
Jim, “but how’m 1 1’ get even with that little dev — 


278 FEMININE FINANCE 

woman? She ought at least V pay my doctor’s 
bill ” 

“How much do you suppose it will be?” she 
asked. 

“About fifteen dollars. He’s been here twice an’ 
he’ll have t’ come again; and the medicine. Sup- 
pose I should develop some terrible inside trouble 
’cause I got that fall ” 

“You needn’t fear any such thing, I’m sure,” said 
Tilly. “You never had a sick day in your life; 
and now, because you’ve got a bruise or two that 
any ordinary working man gets more of every day 
than you’ve ever had in all your life, you make a 
great fuss and carry on as if you were at death’s 
door. Nonsense! You ” 

“Mr. Holliday,” interrupted Emalene, “ask your 
doctor to-morrow for his bill, and if you send the 
signed waiver to me, send me the bill at the same 
time, and I’ll see what can be done. My address 
is on that slip with the waiver. We can’t spend 
much more time here. We’ve been working hard 
all day, Miss Holliday and I, and must get back to 
town.” 

She and Tilly having agreed that Cousin Jim 
would best be kept in ignoranceof the intended jour- 
ney, the cousins parted without any special leave- 
taking. 

The two women reached New York in time for 
dinner, Tilly entering the house veiled — as indeed 
she had been whenever in the street or cars, since 
her liberation from Louise’s room. This was of 


FEMININE FINANCE 


279 


her own volition, partly to avoid possible detention 
as a witness in the trial, and more especially to 
shield Emalene, in the event that there should lurk 
in that interesting person’s mind any shrinking 
from being seen in the company of any one known 
as was the chorus woman. 

Emalene was spared the anxiety she might other- 
wise have felt as to Tilly’s possible reception at the 
home of her Australian friends, by a letter which 
Tilly received from them the day previous, and 
which she had been allowed to read. 

She accompanied her charge to the Grand Cen- 
tral Station, and but for her presence, and the cheer 
of her Australian letter, the traveler would have 
been uncomforted indeed. 

Again and again Tilly voiced her gratitude to 
Louise, and charged Emalene to express her thanks 
to her, saying finally: “To think that I should be 
going away, with all this before me, because, after 
all, Louise has been good to me — and in spite of 
all I said to and against her!” Emalene, hoping 
abstractly for the effect which she believed this 
gratitude might have upon Louise, clung to her ret- 
icence regarding her obligation to repay the 
amount. 

Tilly’s last words to Emalene, whispered with 
brimming eyes, were to remain sweet to the little 
Samaritan long after the anxieties of that day, 
and most of the details of what afterwards came 
to be spoken of as the Tilly Episode, had faded 
jfrom her memory. 


280 


FEMININE FINANCE 


She stood a little apart from the crowd, a lonely 
little figure, and watched the big West-bound ex- 
press as it slowly rolled out of the station and until 
it disappeared. 


CHAPTER XXIII 


The day following that of Tilly’s departure being 
Sunday, Emalene had leisure to reflect upon the 
problem which now confronted her — ways and 
means to repay to Louise the money borrowed from 
her. With much the same impulse as that which 
governed her in asking Cousin Jim to make his note 
in Tilly’s favor, due in four months, she had written 
her own obligation as due in six. Not that there 
was any probability of her being able to pay the 
amount borrowed at the expiration of that time; 
but she had thought it well to have a date toward 
which to work. 

With her limited resources, she seriously felt the 
weight of such a responsibility, and knew that 
the way to the repayment of the money was paved 
with many a sacrifice, not one of which would she 
regret if only Tilly would prove herself worthy. 

The following day, Monday, rounded out the 
week which, to the three women most concerned 
in the episode, was so eventful. The noon delivery 
brought Emalene a letter from Cousin Jim, in which 
he addressed her as “Miss Carruthers, Dear 
Maiden/’ and enclosed his waiver, duly signed, and 
notarially sealed, of all claims against Louise J. 

281 


282 


FEMININE FINANCE 


Anstey. He also enclosed liis physician’s bill for 
fifteen dollars. 

Emalene at once went to Louise with these. The 
waiver was filed away carefully among Miss An- 
stev’s papers, and before Emalene left the house a 
cheque was handed her to the order of Cousin Jim, 
for the amount of his physician’s bill. 

Thus, with the departure of Tilly, the receipt of 
the waiver, and the payment of Cousin Jim’s bill, 
Louise’s burdens rolled from her shoulders, and 
her atmosphere cleared, leaving her free to complete 
the work that had seemed so much less important 
to her since that memorable morning, really only a 
week, but seemingly so much longer agone, when 
Martha had announced : “Dazza lady in de pahlah 
tuh see yuh, Miss Anstey.” 

Louise and Emalene sat long, talking over the 
strenuous few days last past. Emalene had in her 
own way related the particulars of Tilly’s final 
leave-taking, laying much stress on the gratitude 
which she had expressed to Louise for the money 
and other kindness. 

“So,” said Louise, “you’re staying in town, and 
not going to Hemmelston, after all. How shall you 
spend the time?” 

“I shall find plenty to do. I’m going to treat 
myself to a little leisure in New York. I’ve never 
had that experience, you know. Ever since I’ve 
lived here I’ve been at work except those weary 
days so long ago before I found work. They 
couldn’t by any stretch of the meaning of the word 


FEMININE FINANCE 


2S3 


be called leisure. All the leisure I’ve had since, 
I’ve rushed off to spend in some other place, many 
times not nearly so delightful to spend a vacation 
in. Now I’m going to stay right here and ‘see 
New York’ a bit. People like yourself and myself 
don’t know New York really. It’s the people that 
come here and spend a week doing what I’ve never 
yet had the opportunity to do, seeing the sights, 
that could lead us about and show us the city we 
live in.” 

“I know you, Emalene. I can tell this moment 
what keeps you in town : you gave Tilly about all 
the money you had to spend on your vacation, in 
addition to obligating yourself for five hundred 
dollars and interest ” 

“Don’t bother, Louise. As I told you before, 
you’ll not be cheated out of your money if you 
never get it back,” said she, smiling. 

“Now that we’re out of the woods — oh, such a 
week ! — tell me where you were the night you came 
from Cousin Jim’s — Wednesday night.” 

“I spent it with the wife of that detective 
that rode down with me from Sedgwick. I’ve al- 
ready told you how he came and talked to Cousin 
Jim while I was there, and how I made up my 
mind that he was a detective when he made the 
excuse for seating himself beside me in the train. 
A short time after you left me on Wednesday a 
card was brought up to me — a name I did not know, 
Mr. J. W. Phillips, and I went down to meet — my 
detective ! He asked me if I knew anything of the 


284 


FEMININE FINANCE 


whereabouts of Tilly Baxter and I told him I didn’t 
know any such person, and certainly didn’t know T 
her whereabouts, thus taking advantage of that lit- 
tle mental reservation of which I spoke to you. 
There is really no such person as Tilly Baxter — 
it’s only a name. If I’d had the slightest doubt of 
the woman’s innocence, I shouldn’t have done this. 
The man seemed to be satisfied with my statement, 
and to make conversation, and at the same time 
gratify my curiosity, I asked him how he came to 
know my name — if Mr. Holliday had told him it. 
He said he had asked it of the policeman at the 
corner.” 

“How would the policeman know your name?” 

“Our policeman knows me ! I always say ‘good- 
morning’ to him, and when waiting for the car and 
he isn’t busy, exchange a word or two with him, 
though I can’t imagine how he came to know my 
name. I’m not at all displeased that he does know 
it — I’m not at all ashamed of it and don’t care 
who knows it; and he’s a nice chap. So this Mr. 
Phillips took occasion to ask if my Christian name 
might happen to be Emalene, and when I told him 
it was, he was on the point of embracing me, I do 
believe. Who do you think he turns out to be?” 

“I can’t imagine.” 

“Maggie Sullivan’s husband!” 

“What ! That pretty girl that you used to have 
for an assistant at the office and that had the awful 
time with the Gilded Youth?” 

“Yes. I had heard that she finally married, and 


FEMININE FINANCE 


285 


that she was living with her husband in Chicago. 
It seems they didn’t stay there long. As soon as 
this man found out I was whom he called ‘ the Miss 
Carruthers’ he was so intent upon having me see 
Maggie and the baby, he rushed out and got a cab 
and insisted on taking me up to their flat in Sixty- 
ninth Street. They’ve got the most beautiful baby- 
boy you ever saw. As Mr. Phillips had to go to 
Washington that night, and they both coaxed me 
so, and, moreover, as it had been so long since I’d 
talked with Maggie and we had so much to say to 
each other, I spent the night with her. I had a 
beautiful time. The only drawback was that, there 
being no telephone in the house, I couldn’t let Mrs. 
Pierson know where I was. Maggie makes a splen- 
did little wife and seems devoted to her husband, 
her baby and her home. You’d be delighted to see 
what a nice little housekeeper she is. Her husband 
seems to know the whole story, and not to care. 
When I asked her why she didn’t let me hear about 
her happiness and the baby’s coming and all of 
it, she said I’d had so much trouble with her, she 
thought I’d not care to know anything more about 
her.” 

“But think of your visiting a detective’s home! 
I can’t imagine what sort of a person a detective 
would be. What next?” 

“He’s a very respectable man, apparently. His 
manners are as good as most people’s and he seems 
as intelligent in general ways as the average person. 
In special ways he is probably much more intelli- 


286 


FEMININE FINANCE 


gent than the average, to qualify him for his busi- 
ness. There must be such persons if people live 
under the law, and justice according to the law is 
to be done.” 

“Being friends with all sorts and conditions of 
people has served you for once.” 

“Don’t lose sight of the fact that in this case 
you have been served as well as I — you more than 
I, because, had I been arrested, I shouldn’t have 
had to wrestle so long to repay the money I bor- 
rowed from you, don’t you see? I think I lost a 
great opportunity after all, in not letting them ar- 
rest me, put me in a filthy cell, hustle me and kick 
me a little perhaps ” 

“You incorrigible!” laughed Louise. 

“I think when he heard from the policeman that 
my name was Carruthers, he probably suspected 
that I was the woman he had heard Maggie talk 
about, so he didn’t press me with questions after 
I told him I didn’t know Tilly. If it hadn’t been 
for that, don’t you think he might have made it un- 
pleasant? I’d have done all I could to shield you 
and Tilly, but he might have gone to Cousin Jim 
and got information of Tilly’s whereabouts, don’t 
you see?” 

“Yes, yes, that’s true. Perish the thought ! Tilly 
never went uptown, you say, except to do her pack- 
ing?” 

“Only the day she escaped from here. Then she 
went to her room to change her clothes before 
taking the train for Sedgwick. She was with you 


FEMININE FINANCE 


287 


three nights, and with me two — making five. The 
sixth night she left for Australia.” 

“Really, I’ve been so confused about this episode 
that I couldn’t have told, when I came back here 
and found her gone, whether she had been here 
three days or three weeks. It seemed like three 
months since I’d had a moment of peace.” 

“Has Martha yet appeared in any new raiment? 
Tilly sent her what would have filled a good-sized 
trunk, of georgeousness, in which she will doubtless 
wring the hearts of her rivals at festive happen- 
ings.” 

“I never see her in any but her cap and apron 
capacity, so I may never see any of the evidences 
of her good fortune. Do you know, she has never 
yet mentioned Tilly to me.” 

Next day the mail took to Cousin Jim, Louise’s 
cheque and his note in favor of Augusta Holliday, 
with the signature torn off, accompanied by a 
friendly note from Emalene. 


CHAPTER XXIV 


To Rosamond Gray, Emalene had confided how 
she had come into possession of the money for 
Tilly. Also that she had undertaken to repay it ; 
that she had given, not loaned, the money to this 
unfortunate sister woman. Rosamond was very 
sympathetic, and declared that Emalene did wrong 
not to have given herself the opportunity at least 
to help. 

Emalene was more specific with Rosamond as to 
her finances than she would have been, had she not 
laid upon herself the necessity of accounting to her 
friends for the absence of her usual contribution 
to the club’s treasury. 

She settled herself to a course of metaphorical 
cheese-paring and drawing in of the belt. These, 
however easy, abstractly considered, and however 
cheerfully undertaken, having in mind the cause, 
in the actual doing were sorely trying to a spirit 
such as hers. She minded her personal sacrifices 
but little. Accustomed to take scrupulous care 
of her small but always tasteful and well-considered 
wardrobe, it did not trouble her, nor those of her 
friends who noticed it, that she wore for her best 
gown one which had already served two winters, 
288 


FEMININE FINANCE 


289 


slightly altered and with new trimmings. But that 
she could not, with this debt hanging over her, 
spend even trifling sums in responding to little 
pressing calls for help, nor even explain her in- 
ability so to do, tried her sorely. Never before had 
she borrowed a dollar nor thought to burden herself 
with a monetary debt. For an infinitude of kind- 
nesses of various sorts, she reckoned herself so im- 
measurably a debtor to her friends, as to warrant 
her in the horror she had had of becoming indebted 
in any other sense, until Tilly’s cause had been un- 
dertaken. She had accustomed herself to regard 
debt as the greatest of the devil’s inventions ; and 
once, early in the days of the cheese-paring, had 
been near to doubting the wisdom of having bor- 
rowed the money even in Tilly’s interest. However, 
she never once swerved from her determination to 
pay the uttermost farthing of it before spending 
one penny in any other cause, however benevolent 
or pressing, or on herself, save for necessities. 

Long before, she had given over any idea of try- 
ing to increase her revenues by seeking more re- 
munerative employment. She was so fixed in her 
business groove that she was disinclined to change, 
and told herself, often, that what she lacked of 
monetary remuneration therein, was compensated 
for in the peace, the security, and, in a sense, the 
freedom from rules and restraints which she en- 
joyed, albeit she was lacking neither in punctuality 
nor painstaking. But now, to increase her earn- 
ings, she undertook, with a woman friend, some 


290 


FEMININE FINANCE 


work of a clerical character, to be done at night. 
This was to last several months and occupy her 
four nights a week, leaving Thursday for her club, 
Saturday and Sunday nights free. The compen- 
sation for this work was not over-liberal, but the 
stipend for several months of it, added to her now 
regular weekly savings, would aid considerably in 
discharging her obligation to Louise. Previous to 
this beginning, with what Louise called the 
sublimation of idiocy, she had not saved a penny. 
Her money slipped away from her in little, hearty, 
heartening ways of helpfulness to others, that look 
so great to those who profit thereby, and in the 
multitude thereof cost a pretty sum. So, while too 
philosophical to permit her indebtedness to make 
her unhappy, the thought of it was ever present. 
She dined with Louise one Saturday — her free 
night — in the autumn, and mentioned the folly of 
having written her note as payable in January 
when it would probably not be fully paid in a very 
much longer time. 

“Have you heard from Tilly since she returned 
the twenty-five dollars of your vacation money im- 
mediately on her arrival at Melbourne?” asked 
Louise, with just a suspicion of sarcasm. 

“No, singularly enough. I told you, didn’t I, that 
her friends out there turn out to be very wealthy. 
It seems the man had money here, and has been 
very successful in his investments there. I fancy 
he went there because his family here disapproved 
of his marriage, and ” 


FEMININE FINANCE 


291 


“Took his ‘rag and bone and hank of hair’ where 
it would not be so obviously such as it was here, 

probably, since she was a crony of Tilly’s ” 

“S — sh, Louise! They are apparently very hap- 
py, and Tilly wrote that their home is sweet and 
the children perfectly charming. It’s really touch- 
ing, the affection she has for her little namesake, 
whom vshe adores.” 

“Then, if her friends are wealthy, why doesn’t 
she offer to return your money?” 

“Their money isn’t hers, remember. She’s prob- 
ably doing the best she can.” 

“But I should think she’d rather be indebted to 
them than to you, since they are such old friends, 

and wealthy, while you ” 

“She may feel that asking them to take her in 
and give her a home is all she cares to ask of them 
just now.” 

“What is she going to do? You remember when 
we first talked of sending her out there, you thought 

of marriage as the avenue most open to her ” 

“When you think of it, it’s the avenue that is 
most open to most women at present; and I don’t 
see but what the majority of them are rationally 
happy and useful. I’m inclined to think that those 
that are not happy in the married state, wouldn’t 
be happy single. The one letter I’ve had from 
Tilly — written immediately on her arrival at Mel- 
bourne — did not, naturally, confide to me that she 
was in a way to be married, as she hadn’t had time 


292 


FEMININE FINANCE 


nor opportunity to look over the matrimonial field 
nor investigate the labor market.” 

“She must have tired of footlight frivolity and its 
concomitants here.” 

“Perhaps,” said Emalene; “but I think it was 
her terror at the tragedy, her peace with you, even 
circumscribed as she was, contrasted with what her 
own life had been for so long, that set her face 
in the right direction.” 

“Long may it continue so !” said Louise, lightly ; 
and then: “By the way, when did you see Mr. 
Gray?” 

“I saw him Thursday night. He called at the 
club to escort Rosamond home — he does that fre- 
quently now — and they both took me to my door. 
But I’m not going to stay late to-night, and must 
be going. I really came to pay you something on 
my note. I’m like Aunt Rhoda, of Old Gray Goose 
memory, I’ve been saving, and have pretty near a 
fifth of my indebtedness, to-wit, ninety-seven dollars 
and fifty cents, which please take, and endorse on 
the back of the note, as paid. I feel that to have 
so much money at the one time is too great a re- 
sponsibility for me, and must get rid of it at once.” 

“There’s no hurry, Emalene, you may have your 
own time to pay' me in — you know I never need 
money.” 

“Please take it, Louise, and give me credit for 
the amount.” 

“Why the fifty cents — why not make it an even 
ninety-seven dollars?” 


FEMININE FINANCE 


293 


“Every little helps, and fifty cents is that much 
toward the interest. Please take it. I mightn’t 
have it to-morrow, I might lose it.” 

“Or give it away, which is far more likely. Since 
you feel so about it, I will take it, but I’m afraid 
you may need it.” 

“No, I don’t need it, and am not likely to. If 
I needed it I’d not pay it now, because, as you say, 
I know you don’t need it.” She laid the money 
on tile table, and Louise counted it. Afterwards 
producing the note from a little safe in her desk, 
she endorsed the amount thereon as paid, and also 
wrote a formal receipt for the money, which she 
handed to Emalene. As she did so she asked : 

“By the way, whatever did Tilly do with that 
valuable promissory note on which you so sagely 
advised me to advance your protege the money for 
her journey?” 

“Cousin Jim has it, canceled. When she went 
away, Tilly left it with me, apparently to do with 
as I pleased since she gave me no instructions re- 
garding it. Possibly she thought I might care to 
use it against its maker in case he didn’t sign that 
waiver for you, or may have intended that I should 
do with it just as I have done. But in the con- 
fusion of her last day here, w T e both overlooked the 
formality of her endorsing it, without which I 
couldn’t have used the note anyway. So, thinking 
the maker of the note entitled to some balm for 
his hurts, some compensation for signing the 
waiver, I sent it to him. Had he not released you 


294 


FEMININE FINANCE 


in that way, I should have been inclined to send 
it to Tilly for her endorsement, so that I might 
use it against him.” 

“Then you gave up,” said Louise in astonish- 
ment, “a note for five hundred dollars that was 
practically yours, against a man that had property 
out of which the money could have been w T rested! 
A miserable, shiftless old fellow, a cumberer of 
the ground, while you have to slave night and day 
to pay back money, which, had he lived up to his 
written promise, you need never have borrowed ! 
Emalene, I never yet have called you a fool, but 
I’m going to do it now, and do it hard! YOU ARE 
A FOOL. There, now! There’s no help for any 
one who is such a consummate fool,” in a voice and 
manner in which anger, disgust and affection strove 
for the mastery. 

“There, there ! Don’t be so hard on me ! I wasn’t 
such a fool as you seem to think. Had I wanted to 
use this note against Cousin Jim, I should have had 
to send it to Australia for Tilly to endorse, and 
she might or might not have done it. So the mat- 
ter was not altogether in my hands, after all. And 
I reckoned it a token that I was not to use it against 
Cousin Jim, that both Tilly and I overlooked having 
her sign it before she left. It was a choice of evils : 
to worry Tilly, and have her think I regretted get- 
ting the money for her, or let the matter go and 
relieve Cousin Jim of his debt ” 

“Relieve him! Don’t imagine for one moment 
that he was worried about that. He never meant 


FEMININE FINANCE 


295 


to pay it! Don’t yon remember with what a look 
of surprise and disgust, even alarm, he received 
your suggestion that he take back the note, that 
day we went together to the farm? How he said: 
Take back that note, Miss Carruthers!’ He 
thought he never would have to pay it — never meant 
to. Think of your slaving, as you are, to return 
the money you gave Tilly, if you supposed her 
capable of such ingratitude as not to return that 
note with her endorsement, had you asked her to 
do so!” 

“I did think of that, Louise. But you must re- 
member that when the thought came to me, I had 
already borrowed the money for, and given it to 
her. There was no good being like the cow that 
gave a good pail of milk and then kicked it over. 
Besides, in all this discussion, you seem to have 
overlooked the fact that the only thing that would 
have prompted me to enforce the collection of the 
note would have been Cousin Jim’s refusal to aban- 
don his suit against you. And to prove to you that 
I am not a hopeless case, I want to tell you that I 
am not certain — having looked up exemption mat- 
ters in the Wooden Nutmeg State — that anything 
could be collected from our farmer friend.” 

“A shiftless old nobody!” said Louise, emphati- 
cally. 

“I don’t say he is very fine, but if we are so much 
cleverer, more active, and generally superior, are 
we not thereby obliged to manifest it in our deal- 


296 


FEMININE FINANCE 


ings, our relations with him? Cousin Jim has been 
on my mind in a way to make me indignant at him, 
but when I think of it all, I don’t regret sending 
him his note.” 

“I give you up ! It would take a Greek philoso- 
pher to follow your mental twistings and turnings, 
when you want to justify yourself in some special 
bit of altruism,” laughed Louise. 

Happy in having taken this step toward her 
financial emancipation, Emalene soon took her 
leave. As she was descending the stoop she met 
Geoffrey Gray. He was in evening dress and seemed 
delighted to see her. He insisted upon escorting 
her home, saying that as it was early he would 
postpone his call on Miss Anstey to a later hour. 
He therefore left Emalene at her own door, and re- 
turned to call upon Louise. 

That his acquaintance had progressed so far was 
neither so enlightening nor disturbing as Louise’s 
reticence on the subject. Emalene had seen him 
but seldom since she had presented him to Louise; 
but that had not appealed to her as other than it 
should be, since she was so engrossed in her work, 
and he fully aware of her unusual occupation. She 
knew he had not intentionally kept the knowledge 
of his friendship for Louise from her. She was far 
too sweet-natured, her principles too well estab- 
lished, to indulge in w T hat is commonly known as 
jealousy. She told herself that his circle of women 
friends was large, and that his calls upon Louise 


FEMININE FINANCE 


297 


should mean no more to her than those he made 
upon other women. But she was disturbed thereby, 
and realized how different a thing life would be 
without him, from that which his friendship had 
already taught her it could be. 


CHAPTER XXV 


In acknowledging the receipt of Tilly’s letter 
enclosing the twenty-five dollars, Emalene had com- 
municated to her far-away correspondent the de- 
tails of Cousin Jim’s signing of the waiver, and the 
fact that Louise had paid his physician’s bill ; also 
that his own note had been returned to him can- 
celed. 

The months wore on without further tidings 
from Tilly than this first letter. Apparently she 
found life in Australia too engrossing to take 
the time to write, or wished her previous life in her 
native land to be as a closed and sealed book. 

A short time after the payment by Emalene of 
the first installment of her indebtedness, she was 
surprised by the receipt of a letter from Cousin 
Jim, in which, as in his previous one, he addressed 
her as “Dear Maiden ” This letter announced that 
he was to be in town on the Sunday following, and 
would be glad of permission to call upon her in the 
afternoon. 

In sufficient and proper clothing he appeared, so 
Emalene thought on beholding him, surprisingly 
well, bearing in mind the spectacle he had pre- 
sented when she had previously seen him, Natural- 


FEMININE FINANCE 


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ly she was curious to learn the reason for his call 
upon her, and asked immediately upon greeting 
him : 

“Have you heard recently from your cousin?” 

“No, Miss Carruthers, I ain’t,” he replied. “She 
ain’t let me hear from her except one little dinky 
letter from ’Frisco just before she took ship. It 
was all about what a good feller I was to sign that 
waiver — said you’d telegraphed her I’d done it. 
Now what I say is this: she got me to sign away 
my rights against Miss Anstey on the promise that 
she’d do for me, an’ she ain’t ever sent me a dollar.” 

“She said she’d share whatever good fortune came 
to her. You know I was there and heard what she 
said. And I’m sure she will. You’ve nothing to 
complain of. You got back your note, I know, be- 
cause when I sent it, I registered the letter, and 
have the receipt for it.” 

“Yes, I did get the note back all right; but what’s 
that? That didn’t do me any good. I’d never ’a’ 
had to pay it anyway, an’ I’d already spent the 
money ” 

“Yes, and had had the benefit of it more than a 
year, without interest, whereas if you had bor- 
rowed it from any man — even your own brother — 
you know you would have had to pay it back, with 
interest added. To be perfectly frank with you, it 
seems to me that you took advantage, not only of 
your cousin’s fondness for you, but of the fact that 
she is a woman.” 

“Well,” said Cousin Jim, a little disturbed and 


300 


FEMININE FINANCE 


surprised by her spirit, “she must ’a’ got to Aus- 
tralia long before now ; an’ I been expectin’ an’ ex- 
pectin’ an’ no letter’s come except that one from 
’Frisco. I give up my rights, and get what? Fif- 
teen dollars that I have t’ give right out to a doc- 
tor! No account taken o’ my bruises an’ suffer- 
ing?” 

“You ought to have been willing to suffer in 
your body for the trouble you caused your cousin 
and others by your failure to pay that money as 
and when you promised to. And your sufferings 
are past. Why talk about them? Besides, you were 
at no expense — your doctor’s bill was paid. You 
caused your cousin much anguish of mind by not 
living up to the promise you made in giving her 
that note — I mean the first one — on the day it was 
due.” 

“Anguish o’ mind! What, Tilly? She couldn’t 
’a’ been so bad off for money when she could get up 
an’ go sailin’ off to Australia without sayin’ so 
much as ‘by your leave’ t’ me! She must ’a’ had 
her pocket full o’ money th’ very night she come up 
there to th’ farm with you ! An’ what did I get out 
* o’ it? Two lobsters! An’ they wasn’t such terri- 
ble big ones, either, though I do say they was good 
and sweet! I tell you anybody that can go to 
Australia’s got to have money to do it — even t’ get 
there.” 

“Why should your cousin ask your leave to go 
to Australia or any place else? And why should 
you expect her to give you money? She went to 


FEMININE FINANCE 


301 


Australia because it seemed best that she should, 
and I gave you back the note, which I needn’t have 
done if I hadn’t thought best — the matter was left 
entirely in my hands — because I felt that you had 
been rather badly treated by Miss Anstey.” 

“All for the sake of makin’ things easy for that 
little skin-flint that’d see you an’ me an’ Gussie 
Holliday — further — before she’d turn her wrist to 
save us from — tarnation flames.” 

“Never mind about that, Mr. Holliday; you’ve 
signed that waiver — did it of your own free 
will ” 

“Hopin’ an’ expectin’ Tilly’d have luck ” 

“Luck? Are you depending on luck? And some 
one’s else at that? Most people depend on work, 
not on luck. Haven’t you got your farm free and 
clear? Don’t you sell poultry and eggs and milk? 
And fruit and vegetables in the season?” 

“Yes, I got a nice lot o’ chickens an’ turkeys; an’ 
I’m doin’ pretty well with the milk — doin’ all my 
own work! My hired man left weeks ago.” This 
with an air of much self-commendation. “An old 
friend o’ mine’s stayin’ at th’ farm now t’ give me 
th’ chance t’ get t’ town.” 

“That’s fine!” said she, indulgently. “You’re 
fortunate to have so nice a farm, and ” 

“It’s a nice place,” answered he; “would be, if 
it was fixed up as ” 

Fearing that he was about to further bewail his 
failure to get some of Louisa’s money, she hastily 
interrupted : 


302 


FEMININE FINANCE 


“A farmer’s life is said to be the most indepen- 
dent of all.” 

“I remember,” said he, significantly, “you tellin’ 
me, th’ very first time I ever set eyes on you, when 
you come up t’ th’ farm, th’ day after Tilly’s friend 
come t’ collect that money an’ chucked stones at 
me ” 

“Well?” she interrogated, at her wits’ end to 
rid herself of him. 

“Don’t you remember tellin’ me you was a far- 
mer’s daughter?” he asked, with a fat grin. 

“Did I? I had forgotten it. But I am a coun- 
try girl — born and brought up on a farm.” 

“Well, now, that’s just th’ very ticket,” said he; 
“better’n a city bringin’ up.” He recrossed his legs, 
the chair creaking loudly under his weight, and 
looking at Emalene with another grin, asked: 

“How’d you like t’ try farmin’ again?” 

Light broke upon her so suddenly that for a 
moment she was unable, and made no attempt to 
reply. Her silence naturally encouraged him to 
continue : 

“I took a shine t’ you th’ first time I ever see 
you — didn’t you notice it?” 

“Oh,” said she, praying for a word to deliver 
her from his presence. Determined not to prolong 
the interview by beating about the bush, she an- 
swered with well-simulated seriousness : 

“I’m too poor to marry. Men like yourself should 
marry rich women — there are lots of them, you 



“1 took a shine t’ you th’ first time I ever see you — didn't 

you notice it ? ” Page J02 



FEMININE FINANCE 


303 


know. I couldn’t make, at farming or anything 
else, more than I’d require for myself.” 

“You see, I’d help. But you could take tk’ lead. 
I bet you’d manage to raise a gold mine out o’ that 
little farm. I bet you could ” 

“You flatter me,” said she, hastily, fervently 
wishing him anywhere but there. 

“No, no,” said he, blandly, “I ain’t tk’ flatterin’ 
kind. You ask Miss Anstey!” Emalene, seeming- 
ly at the limit of her endurance, was again wordless, 
and he continued: 

“Anyway, I’d rather get me a wife with a head 
full o’ brains, than one o’ them spitfires with a lot 
o’ money that they’re always talkin’ about, an’ 
nobody ever sees ” 

“If it’s cleverness you want, you might get it 
and money combined in one person if you’d look 
about ” 

“Her ! Don’t talk t’ me about her ! I’m so mad 
t’ think I give her that waiver — if I hadn’t a-thought 
so much — if it hadn’t been for you, she’d never ’a’ 
got it, I can tell you !” 

“For me! I had nothing to gain by your doing 
it!” answered she, inwardly gleeful at his interpre- 
tation of her suggestion. 

“But,” he insisted, “I thought I had, an’ you 
know now what I thought it was! An’ seems t’ me 
you’d ought t’ be willin’ t’ do me a favor by doing 
it. I ain’t never asked a woman t’ marry me before, 
’cause I ain’t never kep’ house before; it takes a 
woman t’ do that. I never realized it till Tilly come 


304 


FEMININE FINANCE 


up t’ th’ farm an fixed th’ bed, an’ made things 
homelike and cozy, just by pushin’ an’ pattin’ an’ 
spreadin’ about two minutes. Now you — as I said, 
I never asked a woman before an’ I’m fifty years 
old ” 

“Tilly said you were more than that,” said Eina- 
lene quickly, catching at any conversational straw 
that might turn the current of his thoughts. 

“She did, hey?” raising his voice a trifle, his ex- 
presssing revealing great indignation. Indeed, he 
seemed as disturbed as a widow of forty at Tilly’s 
exercise of the common prerogative of one’s rela- 
tives, concerning one’s years. “How’d Tilly come t’ 
be talkin’ about my age? She ain’t such a chicken 
herself that she needs t’ go tellin’ people I’m older’n 
what I am.” 

“We were talking about the note, and Miss An- 
stey, and all that,” answered she, delighted at her 
succecss in changing the topic. “You came out of 
that affair with flying colors! You had your physi- 
cian’s bill paid, and got five hundred dollars be- 
sides. You mustn’t forget that in sending you that 
note I did you the favor of giving you five hundred 
dollars ” 

“You must ’a’ liked me some t’ ’a’ done that,” 
said he, veering toward the subject his hostess 
hoped to avoid. 

“No,” said she, hastily, “it wasn’t for that reason 
that I sent it. If I’d have kept it, I should have 
brought suit on it ” 


FEMININE FINANCE 305 

“No, you wouldn’t,” said he, his cupidity assert- 
ing itself. “Tilly didn’t endorse it.” 

“True. In the hurry of getting her off, we both 
forgot that. But I could have sent it to Australia 
for her endorsement.” 

“She’d ’a’ known you was goin’ t’ sue me, an’ 
wouldn’t ’a’ put her name to it! Blood’s thicker’n 
water, after all. See?” 

“If you feel so sure of her regard as that, I think 
you may safely trust your future to her providence 
— not to anyone whose blood is not the same as 
your own.” 

Her eyes snapped, and she rose, indicating that 
the interview was at an end. He went forth, pos- 
sibly wiser, leaving her wondering, and not assured 
that Louise might not hear from him again. 


CHAPTER XXVI 


When Emalene next met Louise, she went upon 
invitation to spend Sunday afternoon with her. 

To Louise’s question if she had had further news 
from Tilly she replied : 

“No. I think it strange. But she may find it 
something of a bore to maintain a correspondence 
with a person whose life, contrasted with her own, 
is so perfectly drab, and with whom she has but 
little in common.” 

“You’re not living up to your blue china, Ema- 
lence. You’ve always preached about holding people 
up to the best by thinking and expecting the best 
of them.” 

“I do expect the best of Tilly. But the best in 
her case mayn’t be to write letters to me. It isn’t 
for me to judge what is best for her to do. I 
shouldn’t presume to thrust forward what I may 
personally wish her to do, as the best thing for her 
to do. She may be doing something this moment 
that is far better worth while.” 

“I think the best thing she could do would be 
to get out and work to earn the money to return 
that you gave her.” 


306 


FEMININE FINANCE 


307 


“Are you in a hurry for it, Louise?” she asked, 
her face crimson. 

“No, Emalene. Why look so hurt? I’m sorry I 
said what I did. What I mean is, that if Tilly had 
benefited at all by going to Australia, and had any 
proper sense of gratitude and duty, she’d substan- 
tiate it by returning the money you gave her, since 
she knows you’re poor and had no such amount to 
spend on a big healthy animal like herself ” 

“I think I told you that she doesn’t think her 
obligation is to me. I told her I got the money for 
her from you, which is strictly true; but she doesn’t 
know of the existence of the note I gave you to se- 
cure its repayment. Only one other person knows 
of that.” 

“Who?” 

As Emalene apparently preferred not to answer, 
Louise continued : 

“Well, then, assuming that she thinks the obliga- 
tion is to me, does she think I’d want to wait in- 
definitely for the return of the money?” this time 
utterly ignoring the color of confusion in Emalene’s 
cheeks. Do you know you haven’t been just the 
same to me since this debt has been between us? In 
some way you’ve changed, and ” 

“How can you say so?” asked Emalene, warmly. 

“I cannot just put my finger on it and call it by 
name, but there’s something about you that isn’t 
the same. But learning to save is a great experi- 
ence — perhaps it’s that! Now, I’m going to make 
you a proposition. Quixotic or not ? you sent that 


308 


FEMININE FINANCE 


woman to the other side of the world to a better or 
a worse life — we may never know which. But you 
did it of your own volition and are under the neces- 
sity of paying the piper for having so danced. It 
seems to me, though, rather inconsistent, that you, 
who have always held so strenuously to the idea 
that no one ever suffers for a good deed, should ap- 
pear to regret your act as you do.” 

“I don’t regret it, Louise. How could you think 
it? I desert my guns? Never !” she said with vehe- 
mence, starting from her chair and walking about 
the floor, finally taking up a position, leaning 
against a tall chair back, and facing Louise. 

“Then perhaps you’ve heard something from or 
about Tilly that I don’t know ; that you’re keeping 
from me ” 

“No. I’ve not heard a word from her since I last 
talked with you about her. I received one letter, 
acknowledged its receipt, and know nothing else.” 

“Something’s gone out of you that was there be- 
fore — something that I miss. What is it?” she 
asked, approaching Emalene and laying a hand on 
either of her shoulders, while she looked earnestly 
into her face. Emalene, moving away from her a 
step or two, answered : 

“Nothing that I’m conscious of. If I appear 
changed it is in appearance only. You’ve always 
told me that I’m foolish with my little bits of 
money; but my foolishness, if such, has always be- 
fore been at my own expense. I’m feeling the grind 
of this debt a little and working hard to pay it off, 


FEMININE FINANCE 


309 


so that I can’t see you often — I can’t see much of 
any of my friends this winter. But it won’t always 
be ‘this winter,’ ” said she, smiling brightly, and 
taking up her favorite position on the arm of the 
Morris chair. “Don’t mind, Louise. I’ll ‘perk up 
and be a man.’ Be a man! How differently men 
look at these matters of money,” said she, musingly. 
“Think of it ! The thousands of men every day and 
all the time in debt ; never a moment free from it ! 
Owing so much and being owed so much! And 
sometimes owing so much more than is owed them 
that they can’t truly be said to own anything at 
all ! And the next day it may be the other way 
about — they may own so much more than they owe 
that they may be said to be very rich ; and all the 
time, whether owning or owing much or little, liv- 
ing like princes, and never denying themselves any- 
thing ” 

“For the love of mercy, Emalene,” screamed 
Louise, laughing, “have you gone daft? You make 
me feel like a fiend incarnate to hold that note of 
yours ” 

“Oh, Louise,” said Emalene, roused to the im- 
port of what she had said, “I think I must be a 
simpleton! / am to have said such things before 
you that you feel uncomfortable. I really was doing 
a bit of thinking aloud.” 

Louise regarded her quizzically for a moment, 
and then, to change the subject, asked : 

“Have you seen Mr. Gray lately?” 


310 


FEMININE FINANCE 


“Yes, I saw him a week ago last night — my ‘free’ 
night. We went to the theatre together.” 

There was a slight pause after Emalene’s reply. 
Louise was evidently revolving something in her 
mind, in some doubt as to the manner in which it 
should be expressed. With a peculiar hesitation, 
quite different from her usual unusual directness, 
she asked : 

“Have you known him long?” 

“I met him for the first time last winter, though 
I seem to have known him for the past nine years, 
having heard him spoken of so frequently by his 
sisters and nieces. I had often seen him and he 
says he had often seen me during that time, but 
until last winter we never met.” Her manner was 
disarmingly frank. 

“Do you know, I admire him very much. I 
wouldn’t say that to anyone else in the world, Ema- 
lene. I think you know me better than anyone 
else. I’ve never been willing that anyone should 
know me as well.” 

“I’m sure you couldn’t say a thing that would 
be sweeter for me to hear, Louise.” 

“I say it because it’s true. I regret more than I 
can tell you that I ever called Mr. Gray into the 
matter of the Tilly Episode. Sometimes I’m tempt- 
ed to invent some excuse for sending him to see 
Cousin Jim, in order that he may understand what 
extraordinary provocation I was under when I 
stoned him. He need only look at the fellow to 
understand that.” 


FEMININE FINANCE 


311 


This was the first intimation which Louise had 
given Emalene that her acquaintance with Mr. Gray 
had progressed beyond their first meeting, and one 
other, of which she was aware that Emalene knew. 
To what Louise had last said, she replied: 

“Take my advice, Louise, and let sleeping dogs 
lie. Don’t fool with Jim. But you must recollect 
that I asked you not to be too hasty about con- 
sulting a lawyer. I told you it would be time 
enough to make your disclosures to one after papers 
had been served on you by the other side, even 
though I believed then, and know now, that Cousin 
Jim was perfectly serious in saying that he intend- 
ed to bring suit against you. He certainly would 
have sued you had not Tilly induced him to sign 
that waiver. Had you not allowed yourself to be 
governed by your fears, you’d have waited a few 
days, and there would have been no occasion to 
bring Mr. Gray or any other lawyer into the mat- 
ter.” 

“Yes, yes,” she answered; “but who alarmed me? 
It was you ! But since I received the waiver and 
he didn’t sue, I’d rather endure the humiliation of 
having Mr. Gray know what he knows — fortunate- 
ly he’s the perfection of chivalry — than to have 
missed knowing him.” 

“But since you wouldn’t listen to me, and I 
yielded to you and brought a lawyer to you in the 
person of Mr. Gray, you went too far in telling 
him of the affair. You needn’t have told him more 
than a third of what you did. If I had needed any 


312 


FEMININE FINANCE 


evidence of the man’s knightliness other than I 
possessed before the Tilly Episode, certainly the 
gravity with which he listened to your recital that 
evening would have been sufficient. Knowing his 
keen sense of humor, I could have made the walls 
vibrate with my cachinnations. His deferential 
bearing, and your anxiety to have him informed of 
every detail of the encounter, lent comicality to the 
situation. And when you told of the holes in 
Cousin Jim’s bachelor stockings, I really don’t 
know by what miracle of grace I was saved from 
hysterics. And it was then I learned for the first 
time of your own fall at the other end of the string ! 
You got what you gave, don’t you see? Why, oh 
why, did you tell that?” 

“I thought I must tell him everything! I be- 
lieve I did go too far. But it’s done now, and, do 
you know,” watching her friend’s face with an at- 
tempt to veil her own eager scrutiny, “I don’t 
believe his regard for me is any less sincere — less — 
warm !” 

With the most convincing candor, Emalene re- 
plied : “I’m glad to hear it, Louise. I hope it isn’t. 
Of course I’ve seen you and him together but twice 
— that first evening, and the time you were calling 
on me when he came in. The evening of his first 
call here I was afraid he might misjudge you ; but 
he always speaks of you in the most delighted and 
delightful way.” 

“Does he?” asked Louise, with what Emalene 
thought almost childish eagerness. “I’m sure it’s 


FEMININE FINANCE 


313 


very nice of you to tell me so. Many women 
wouldn’t be so generous.” 

“There’s nothing generous about speaking the 
truth. Why shouldn’t I tell you if a man admires 
you?” 

“You never did before.” 

“Because he’s the only one of the few of my men 
friends you’ve met that you’ve been half civil to, 
or allowed to know you at all ; and I’ve had, and 
still have, some very fine ones.” 

“You don’t mean to say, Emalene, that you think 
any other man you ever presented to me worthy 
to be mentioned in the same day, the same year 
even, with Geoffrey Gray? There isn’t his equal in 
the world !” 

Emalene, by this time aware of Louise’s state 
of mind, fearing her friend might disclose more 
than she might without regret, now interrupted to 
say: 

“Yes, he is an exceptional man — most exception- 
al; but as I don’t know all the men in the world, 
I can’t say, positively, that there isn’t, somewhere, 
another as fine.” This was said with a little smile. 
“I know him pretty well,” she continued, “and he 
is a noble man, Louise — not a nobleman; there’s a 
difference, you see,” smiling again in her desire to 
give some lightness to a conversation that was be- 
coming somewhat oppressively personal. 

Louise straightened herself in her chair and put 
her hand to her lips as though she feared the words 
about to be uttered might be seen there forming— 


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FEMININE FINANCE 


a look of peculiar embrrassment in her eyes. Ema- 
lene now sat in the big chair, her small, graceful 
head on one side, her beautiful hands clasped about 
one knee, giving no evidence that she was inwardly 
disturbed by what she had thus far heard. It came 
at last: 

“Emalene,” said Louise, “Fm going to say to 
you what, possibly, no woman ever said to an- 
other — at least I hope no other woman was in such 
extremity as to make it possible for her to say such 
a thing to another. I ought, perhaps, to be ashamed 
— indeed, I am ashamed to say it — but I’d rather 
endure the shame than miss the possible result of 
saying ” 

Emalene changed her position as though struck 
with the incongruity between her own careless 
physical attitude and the seriousness of what she 
knew she was about to hear. She therefore leaned 
forward, resting her elbow on the arm of her chair, 
and looked directly at Louise, who haltingly con- 
tinued : 

“Geoffrey Gray is more to me than he can be to 
you — than he could ever be to any other woman. 
You, who have had so many affairs, can scarcely 
understand what it is, to a woman like myself, who 
has lived as long as I have without having seen a 
man, who, matrimonially considered, she would 
have turned to look at, to have the attentions of such 
a man as he. I may be flattering myself unduly, but 
I believe he is very much interested in me ; in fact, 


FEMININE FINANCE 315 

I’m convinced there’s but one obstacle to my happi- 
ness with him, and that obstacle is yourself.” 

Emalene now leaned back in her chair, resisting 
the impulse to turn her face away, but hoping that 
the sense of shame, the remorse for having allowed 
Louise thus to bare her soul, would not be reflected 
in her countenance. 

Louise paused a moment; and as Emalene con- 
tinued looking silently at her, she went on : 

“Now I am going to propose what may seem, is 
extraordinary. However, in the light of what it 
may mean to me, it is entirely reasonable, and the 
only expedient left me. You are oppressed by that 
debt to me — though, as you know, you may have 
your own time to pay it in. But as you apparently 
want to be relieved of it, I have this to offer : I will 
give you back the note, and the ninety-seven dollars 
and fifty cents already paid on it; in addition I will 
give you a thousand dollars for a European tour, if 
you will get ready and sail immediately — without 
the knowledge of Geoffrey Gray — and remain 
abroad three months.” 

While Louise thus spoke, Emalene concentrated 
everything within her on the effort to appear to re- 
gard her proposition lightly; not for worlds would 
she have permitted Louise to know the state of mind 
into which it had thrown her. Smiling brightly as 
Louise finished, she said quickly : 

“ ‘True f’r ye, Mrs. Finn,’ your idea is a novel 
one ! But I’m learning that you are given to novel 
expediencies — witness your collection methods ! 


316 


FEMININE FINANCE 


Now you purpose investing money in affection fu- 
tures ! I wonder wliat Mr. Gray would say to your 
gambling on the chance of his proposing to marry 
you or me? He may have not the slightest intention 
to so honor either of us, or any other woman.” 

“All the better chance for one of us. Men worth 
having never ‘intend’ to propose. They simply do 
it, and are probably always surprised after it’s 
over.” 

“Ah, your wisdom in these matters surprises me,” * 
laughed Emalene. 

“Nevertheless, can you imagine a man worth 
talking about, thinking over how he will propose 
and when he will propose, what he will say ?” 

Here Emalene interrupted to say : “But I’ll not 
go to Europe: first, because, should I not win in 
this matrimonial contest that you have been at such 
pains to arrange, I might be under the necessity of 
seeking another position on my return, and I 
shouldn’t like that; besides, this night work — I’ve 
got to stick to that — I’ve promised, and must. But 
I’ll take back the note, and agree to keep out of the 
gentleman’s way. This won’t be so hard because he 
knows I work four nights a week, and give one to 
the club ; and if he’s human — and everyone knows I 
am — he’d not do much calling on me under the cir- 
cumstances, and would understand my not receiv- 
ing him if he did call.’ 

“Still, you’ve always wanted to go to Europe, and 
I don’t know any one who would get more enjoy- 
ment out of going. Now this is your opportunity. 


FEMININE FINANCE 


317 


Besides, I should not feel safe with you here where 
by making a little effort and being a little patient 
he could see you. You know about propinquity.” 

“Oh, yes, I know what they say about it! But 
leaving Europe out, I’ll agree to your plan. I 
don’t suppose you’d want a written agreement; in 
this case my word will have to suffice, and is as 
good as my bond. If you win Mr. Gray, five hun- 
dred dollars or thereabouts is a small, a very small 
price to pay for such a husband as I know he will 
make any woman he’d ask to be Mrs. Gray — indeed, 
he’d be a bargain at any price. I don’t know but 
that, taking into account the value of the prize, in 
consideration of the contingency of winning him, 
and the fact that I save you a thousand dollars by 
declining to go to Europe, you ought to give me a 
promissory note for five hundred dollars, to be 
paid me the day you and he walk up the 
aisle in Saint Bartholomew’s, and I show myself 
to the world of fashion there assembled, in a gown 
purchased for the occasion with money borrowed 
on your note, and one of the back pews! There’s 
a sentence for you! And in case you lose and I 
win, I’ll pay you dollar for dollar, the amount for 
which you now hold my note, and interest at 
the legal rate, out of my very own money, if it 
takes me twenty years to gather it together.” 

“You feel very sure of winning, I believe, you’re 
so gay about it.” 

“Why shouldn’t I be gay? This proposition of 
yours is a serious contribution to the gaiety of na- 


318 


FEMININE FINANCE 


tions. But, as to my winning Mr. Gray, or being 
sure of winning, I’m simply willing to take chances ! 
I look at it this way: If he prefers you, I don’t 
want him — wouldn’t have him; if he prefers me, 
you certainly ought not to want him. I’ll enter 
into the compact with you and abide strictly by 
its terms. I’d scorn to get money for myself, my 
own use, in any such way; but for someone else- — 

for a case like Tilly’s ” 

“You wouldn’t be doing this for Tilly ! It isn’t as 
though she were here, waiting for the money to 
go. She’s already had the money and gone; and in 
getting it this way, you’d be getting it for yourself, 
to save yourself the work and worry of its repay- 
ment. Don’t be so shallow in your reasoning. You 
can’t take that attitude toward the transaction. I 
notice you’re often shallow. You told that detec- 
tive last summer that you didn’t know Tilly Baxter 
when you did. You knew whom he meant, and if 

you’d have been strictly truthful you’d have ” 

“I repeat, there is no such person as Tilly Bax- 
ter; it is a name merely — a name that doesn’t be- 
long to the person he was asking about. But why 
go so far back? We were talking of my getting 
money by the nefarious means which you propose; 
whether for myself or for some one else, doesn’t 
matter. I’ll accept your proposition. It’s not a 
very conventional thing that you propose. In 
twenty thousand years it wouldn’t have occurred to 
me to advance such an idea! But that’s because 
I’ve a dull drab mind, and you’ve a bright yellow 


FEMININE FINANCE 


319 


one. I, being in straits, avail myself of your bril- 
liant idea to obtain my financial freedom. I’ll ac- 
cept money — or release from an obligation which 
represents money— for something I haven’t got, and 
shall never have the power to control. You’ll be 
buying, or paying for, the opportunity to avail your- 
self of a chance at something which you may never 
get because it may never exist, namely, a certain 
man’s affection. This is an attempt to reduce an 
abstraction such as a man’s possible emotions, or 
matrimonial intentions, to something that may be 
paid for in dollars and cents — a chance of a chance ! 
Talk about stealing meeting-houses and trading in 
church-steeples and prayer-books ! Those are child’s 
play ! Louise, you’re a brilliant woman. If I had 
on a hat, I’d immediately loosen the pins to you !” 

“You certainly do feel gay! You’re sure you are 
not already engaged to him — haven’t some matri- 
monial understanding with him?” 

“I am not engaged to him or to any man, and 
never was. I never had but one proposal of mar- 
riage in my life,” said she, smiling quaintly. 

“What! With all the men you’ve had dangling 
about? Impossible!” 

“You surely don’t doubt my word, Louise?” She 
was serious. “It’s the simple truth. Possibly I’ve 
been waiting for the right one. At any rate we 
won’t discuss such irrelevant details. And, re- 
turning to my being here or in Europe to facilitate 
your chances in this lottery of love, you’ll have the 
better right of way with Mr. Gray with me here in 


320 


FEMININE FINANCE 


town, declining to see him, than with me in Eu- 
rope and he awaiting and hoping for my return, 
assuming that he is at all interested in my humble 
self.” 

“Don’t be hypocritical, Emalene; it isn’t a be- 
coming pose for you.” 

“Is it for any one? But give me the note, my 
dear,” said she, with a brisk, business-like air, “and 
I’ll be going, not to a nunnery, but to a seclusion 
from Mr. Gray, so complete that he’ll look in vain 
for me until, if he so pleases, that day at Saint 
Bartholomew’s, in case it arrives within three 
months from this one.” 

Louise now said: “Possibly you don’t care for 
the man, though I can’t imagine any woman so 
foolish, and might not intend to accept him even 
if he offered himself. In that case it wouldn’t 
be fair for you to enter into this compact, don’t you 
see? I might get him anyway ” 

“Louise, you grow more and more surprising! 
Now this proposition of yours relates to the con- 
tingency of his asking either of us to marry him 
within the next three months. It does not relate 
to our willingness to accept him, nor stipulate that 
we shall or shall not accept him, in case we should 
be asked to do so.” 

“You’re always so reticent about these matters, 
Emalene; you may be engaged to someone 
else ” 

“Louise,” cried Emalene, laughing, “you must not 
allow your cupidity to betray you into such awful 


FEMINISE FINANCE 


321 


breaches of politeness. You must not doubt my 
word. I have told you that I am not engaged to 
him or to anyone else.” 

Louise produced the note and handed it to her 
partner in the compact, who looked at it curiously 
for a moment, and then arose and laid it on the 
glowing coals in the grate. In a second it was a 
blackened shadow of itself, and in another had dis- 
appeared up the chimney in tiny films, while she 
watched it vanish. Then she turned to face Louise, 
and with a little melodramatic pose and gesture, 
said in a mock-tragic voice : “So perishes me only 
enemy — debt ! Let him stay perished !” 

Louise smiled. She was at her desk with her 
cheque-book, writing a cheque to Emalene’s order 
for ninety-seven dollars and fifty cents, which a 
moment later she handed her, saying: 

“There’s one good thing the ill-wind of the Tilly 
Episode blew somebody — you — one good result that 
will remain, even should Tilly herself return to the 
flesh-pots— — ” 

“Don’t speak of it — she will not,” said Emalene, 
rising and walking to the window, with a little im- 
patience in her manner ; “but to what do you refer?” 

“It has taught you to save money. With this 
large sum saved, I suppose you’ll get a new gown?” 

“You never were more mistaken. My clothes 
are good enough for me.” 

“If you aren’t going to spend it on yourself — 
going to spend it on others as I know you’re likely 
to — why don’t you do some one thing that’s worth 


322 


FEMININE FINANCE 


while and get credit for it, instead of frittering 
away your opportunities in dollars and dimes?” 

“I don’t want credit for doing things, large or 
small. There are plenty of people in the world do- 
ing the big things that I couldn’t compete with even 
were I a million times richer than I’m likely ever to 
be, and too few that are willing to do the small 
things, benevolent or otherwise. The only real pain 
this debt to you has caused me was the necessity it 
entailed on me of giving up helping with the little 
things I constantly hear of; but that was the pen- 
alty I paid for doing the one larger thing. I’m a 
small person, Louise; I’m a stopper of chinks, in 
benevolence, as in other ways. But what large 
benevolent or philanthropic cause do you think I 
could further with ninety-seven dollars and fifty 
cents? What university is aw T ait.ing an endowment 
of those dimensions, do you think? Or what ?” 

“Don’t be so scornful; you know well enough I 
spoke in a general way, and didn’t refer to that 
specific amount.” 

“By the way, Louise, don’t question why I ask, 
but I want to know if, by any chance, you happen 
to have heard from Cousin Jim of late.” 

“No. Had I, do you think I’d not have told you 
the first thing? I sincerely hope I never shall hear 
from him or of him. But why do you ask?” 

“I said you were not to, didn’t I? Remember 
Elsa!” 


CHAPTER XXYII 


Emalene’s leave-taking after this extraordinary 
interview differed not at all from her usual one of 
affectionate gaiety. As she left the street door, 
Louise stood at the brilliantly lighted window, wav- 
ing to her, as she went out into the twilight. 

She had declined Louise’s invitation to supper 
and was eager to be alone. 

Reaching Fifth Avenue, she turned south instead 
of north. She asked herself why she had been led 
to make this maniacal promise? What demon of 
unrighteousness, of worldliness, of greed, of guile, 
of un womanliness had prompted her? She called 
herself a fool, worse than a fool, thus to traffic in 
affection. She told herself that for being so base 
as to enter into such a covenant, or even discuss 
such an idea with anybody, she had proved herself 
unworthy of the joy such a man’s affections would 
bring, and that for being a party to such a com- 
pact, such joy ought, rightfully, never to be hers. 

She walked rapidly and soon reached AVashing- 
ton Arch. Across the way from it she stood a little 
while gazing upward at its soffit with unseeing- 
eyes. She became conscious that one or two of the 
passers-by in the early lamplight of the winter 
323 


324 


FEMININE FINANCE 


evening were regarding lier with curiosity, and 
turning, she sped northward in anger and disgust 
with herself and things in general. Finding herself 
at the junction of Fifth Avenue and Fourteenth 
Street, she crossed to Broadway. A diagonal 
course through Union Square brought her out at 
Seventeenth Street, along which she went eastward 
to Irving Place, where, looking northward, she 
could see, stopping the way, Gramercy Park, gem 
of garden spots, of all the city’s pleasant places, 
the one most beloved of all. She reached its south- 
ern boundary and lingered a moment, gazing 
through the palings at the bareness that had re- 
placed the beauty of summer she so well remem- 
bered. She longed to enter and sit beneath the 
leafless branches of the trees; to be there in peace, 
the stars above her and no human being near. The 
lights of the three clubs, the Players, Columbia, 
and Arts and Crafts, gleamed cheerfully, but the 
nearby streets were deserted, and loneliness reigned. 
The immense limbs of the giant elm in the centre 
of the exquisite little enclosure were beginning to 
be flung wildly about by the brisk, biting wind that 
was rising, according well with the tumult within 
her. She soon resumed her walk which took her 
back to Fourth Avenue on Twentieth Street and 
then north to Twenty-third, along which she went 
westward to Madison Square. She stood a moment 
near the restless, spurting fountain, and crossed the 
square northwest, reaching Fifth Avenue, up which 
she went somewhat more slowly, as her mind be- 


FEMININE FINANCE 


325 


came calmer. Turning into one of the cross streets 
in the Thirties, with her latch-key she let herself 
into one of the high-stoop brown-stone houses, one 
of the many built for grandeur, but, gone the way 
of most such in New York, had reached its second, 
the boarding-house, stage of its existence. 

Being Sunday, and the hour for supper — New 
Yorkers, with few exceptions dine at mid-day on 
Sundays — she had met comparatively few people 
afoot. As she reached the region of restaurants and 
hotels, early diners-out were flying about in cabs 
and motor-cars; but so engrossed was she in her 
own reflections, that she only semi-occasionally re- 
alized that others beside herself were astir in the 
streets. 

She went at once to her room through the quiet 
halls. Flinging off her wraps, she shaded her win- 
dows from any possible ray of light and threw her- 
self on the bed. Hour after hour she lay immov- 
able, staring into the blackness. Twice the silence 
was broken by a rap at her door. But she did not 
stir, and the servant, assuming that she had gone 
out, departed. 

Every physical sensation seemed to have left her, 
but her mentality was preternaturally active and 
keen. All the days of her life seemed to pass in 
review before her, one by one, each with its quota 
of work, of care, of pleasure, and of sorrow. Every 
smallest detail of her past life seemed to claim her 
attention in the intensity of her self-search. She 
realized now, as never before, how dear to her had 


326 


FEMININE FINANCE 


been that dream of a home! That from being an 
abstraction, the idea had become more definite in 
her friendship with Geoffrey Gray. She knew now 
that it was for him she had waited all the years, so 
that when others would have spoken, she had, out 
of sheer virginity of soul, forbidden so much as a 
lover-like hand-clasp. Until the strange happen- 
ing of the afternoon, although aware that Louise 
and Geoffrey Gray were friends, she had not 
guessed the ardor of her own feelings for him. 

She comforted herself somewhat — and out of the 
depths of her self-abasement she yet could not re- 
press a smile of the mind at the audacity of Louise’s 
plan to get what she wanted — by repeating to her- 
self, that if Geoffrey Gray were the man she be- 
lieved him, he would not, could not, be bartered 
away by a mere matter of propinquity; that if his 
affection were dependent upon or subject to mere 
circumstances, it was much too casual to be desired. 

In the abandon of her self-reproach, she won- 
dered if this trial had come to her as a retribution 
for so far forgetting her ideals as to permit a man 
of Cousin Jim’s quality — in ever offering himself to 
her — to violate what she had always held so sacred. 

She would live up, not only to the letter, but the 
spirit of her covenant. Never should Louise say 
that any slightest provision thereof had been un- 
fulfilled. 

The hours wore on. At midnight she arose to 
prepare regularly for bed, and turned on the gas. 


FEMININE FINANCE 


327 


As the light flashed forth and the darkness disap- 
peared, two tiny bits of white paste-board gleamed 
on the floor, having been pushed under the door 
by the servant. She picked them up. One bore the 
name of Geoffrey Gray. 


CHAPTER XXVIII 


The weeks passed and Emalene kept her own 
counsel. She went regularly to her day’s work; 
and, in addition, worked from seven until ten 
o’clock, four nights each week. 

After the first horror of having permitted her- 
self to become a party to the strange agreement, she 
went her way, assured that nothing could deprive 
her of her birthright of peace and happiness, since 
her motive had not been an unworthy one. She 
convinced herself that, looked at rationally, there 
was no wrong in having done as she had ; that the 
only harm that might have resulted therefrom she 
had averted by silencing the rage and scorn that 
had risen within her and clamored to be poured 
out upon Louise at mention of her proposition. 
Had she given way to her feelings at that moment, 
their friendship must inevitably have ended there. 
She laughed at the futility of the pact. What could 
it accomplish? What difference could it make to 
anyone if only she held herself rightly toward both 
Louise and Geoffrey Gray? If the man preferred 
and thought of Louise as his future wife, whether 
he saw herself seldom or often could not matter. 
On the other hand, in case it was herself he pre- 
328 


FEMININE FINANCE 


320 


ferred, Louise might maneuver in vain. He might 
have no idea of entering matrimonial bonds again. 
Refusing to benefit by it, she put Louise’s cheque 
sacredly away, and relaxed not one whit of her 
diligence in gathering together the dimes and 
quarters with which to emancipate herself finan- 
cially, even though, with the burning of her note, 
the tangible evidence of her indebtedness had dis- 
appeared. 

Geoffrey Gray, as Emalene had prophesied, was 
not, apparently, so unthinking as to expect a woman 
whose time was so filled as was Emalene’s this 
particular winter, to bestow upon him any of her 
very limited leisure. Rosamond’s oft-repeated invi- 
tations to dine and go on with her to the club, were 
declined regularly by Emalene, who managed by 
a variety of little pretexts to avoid meeting Rosa- 
mond’s uncle, who called at the club every Thurs- 
day night to escort his niece home. 

The compact was about six weeks old when Ema- 
lene, one Friday morning, was made jubilant by 
the receipt of a letter from Tilly. This enclosed an 
international money-order for the full amount of 
the money given her, with interest, not for the full 
time that she had had the use of it, but for only 
one month. Emalene had the order cashed, and 
telephoned Louise that if she were to be at home on 
Sunday, and disengaged, she would like to call in 
the afternoon. 

Returning from church on Sunday, Emalene 
found on her pin-cushion, a large, documentary en- 


330 


FEMININE FINANCE 


velope, sealed and addressed to her in an unfamil- 
iar hand. This, upon opening it, she found to con- 
tain five new, crisp, one-hundred dollar bills, laid 
in flat. The identity of the sender was absolutely 
concealed, there being not so much as a stationer’s 
imprint on the envelope as a clue. She at once 
called the servant, and inquired if an A. D. T. mes- 
senger had brought the letter. She was informed 
that it had been left by a boy without uniform, who 
took no receipt therefor. Fearing to arouse curios- 
ity, she desisted from the effort to learn by such 
means to whom she was indebted for this surprising 
bestowal. 

Much excited by the incident, and puzzled as well 
to account for it, she went to Louise after the mid- 
day Sunday dinner. After greetings, Louise asked : 

“Now what is it that’s in the back of your mind, 
you astute-looking little person? I’m sure some- 
thing important is about to be disclosed. Out with 
it!” 

“It is important, and it isn’t in the back of my 
mind — it’s bulging out so that I should think it 
would make a bump on my ‘forward.’ I’ve a letter 
from Tilly that I shall read you as soon as I get 
my wraps off and catch my breath. I almost ran 
here. And Tilly’s letter isn’t all I’ve got either. 
There are other matters to be talked over ” 

“You haven’t seen Mr. Gray? He hasn’t declared 
himself?” 

“I have not seen him, and he hasn’t declared hiim 
self.” 


FEMININE FINANCE 


331 


“Do you mean that he hasn’t even written you, 
or telephoned you, or done anything to show that 
he has thought of you?” she asked. 

“He has not telephoned. He has sent me some 
books — heaven knows where he imagines I’d get 
time to read them — and has sent me flowers twice 
every week. But all the writing he has done has 
been that on the card accompanying each box, the 
import of which has invariably been : ‘Don’t bother 
to acknowledge the receipt of these. I know you’ve 
no time to waste, and shall know you have received 
them.’ ” 

“But is it quite according to Hoyle for you to 
have received them?” asked Louise, with provoking 
seriousness. 

“Yes, I think it is. And what could I have done? 
I promised to keep out of his way; and in doing 
that I’ve gone to lengths that possibly a strict in- 
terpretation of the letter of our agreement does not 
imply. But I couldn’t write or telephone the man 
and say: ‘Dear Mr. Gray — I received the lovely 
flowers, for w T hich I thank you very much. But in 
case it should be your intention to send me others 
regularly twice or three times a week, or even daily, 
as I have a contract to give another lady a chance 
at your fond affections, on which contract I have 
received a payment amounting to five hundred dol- 
lars, and as, according to the said agreement, it 
would not be strictly honorable for me to receive 
them, I feel it my duty to say — DON’T.’ Could I 
do this? Could you expect that I should? These 


332 


FEMININE FINANCE 


flowers and books, though, are all that I’ve received 
from him, and I have not seen him, even at a dis- 
tance. I have ‘don’t bothered’ so strictly about 
writing even to acknowledge the receipt of those 
polite remembrances, that he must think me a model 
of obedience, if not of politeness. But I want to 
read you Tilly’s letter. Here it is,” said she, un- 
folding it and settling back in her chair. It begins : 

“ ‘Dear Miss Carruthers — I received your letter 
acknowledging the receipt of the one in which I en- 
closed the twenty-five dollars immediately after I 
arrived here. Some time after sending you that, 
which I felt I shouldn’t keep a minute after I found 
I shouldn’t need it here, I sent Louise Anstey an 
international money-order for five hundred dollars, 
plus the interest at six per cent, for about the length 
of time I had had the use of it, so that the money- 
order was for five hundred and tw r o dollars and fifty 
cents. I haven’t heard a word from her, and the 
post-office has received no notification that the order 
has been cashed. I can’t imagine what has become 
of it, as I addressed the letter very carefully — 
whatever else I might fail to remember, I should 
never forget that address. Believing that, had the 
money been received, I should have heard from you 
or Louise, I am enclosing a money-order for the 
same amount in your name. Should the other one 
turn up — by sending this I have not canceled the 
first one — I want you to keep the amount of this as 
a gift from me, with more thanks than I can ex- 


FEMININE FINANCE 


333 


press for your goodness; and if yon aren’t willing 
to accept it for your own use, please keep it for 
such opportunities as I know a woman like your- 
self always has for helping others. What you did 
for me was the best thing you ever did. My home 
here is such that I am very grateful for and striv- 
ing to show my appreciation of. My friends here 
are wealthy — much more so than I knew — and, 
appreciating my desire to do something toward my 
own support, make me a liberal allowance as com- 
panion to the wife and children. 

“ ‘I should have written you before, many times, 
had I done so as often as I have thought of you; 
but I am not much of a correspondent and am kept 
quite busy in a variety of ways. The money I sent 
Louise and am now sending you has been advanced 
me on salary account. I am sending Cousin Jim 
by this mail a little money to remind him that I 
haven’t forgotten that I promised that if he signed 
the waiver he should share such prosperity as might 
come to me. I shall send him small sums from time 
to time, but they will be very small, making up by 
their frequency for their smallness. He isn’t young 
and never has been capable. 

“ ‘It is a great pleasure to me to be paying this 
money. You will remember that w r hen I took it, 
I said that Louise was taking a great risk. But see 
what has come my way because of it! Please ask 
her to investigate at the P.O., and remember me 
gratefully to her.’ 


334 


FEMININE FINANCE 


“Now I call that worth while,” said Emalene, 
laying down the letter, and picking up her hand- 
bag, “But ‘the half has not been told’ ; the good- 
ness there is in this world surprises me more and 
more every day! Mr. William Shakespeare was 
wrong to allow Mr. Marcus Antonius to say that 
the good men do is ever interred with their bones. 
Good is never buried! The trouble is, we don’t 
listen for and to it. When we do, ‘We’re All 
Right!’ ” said she gaily, with a little singing tone. 
“And, Lady Anstey, I’ve always felt that you’d 
finally come out in your true colors ! You’re a stub- 
born thing, not over-warm in your regard for the 
great majority of humankind; but just the same, 
( you share in the goodness I’ve preached so often, 
as shown by what you sent me this morning, and 
the manner of it!” 

When the “human-sparkler,” as Louise had once 
called her, paused for breath, Louise said: “I’ve 
been sitting here, letting you rattle on, trying to 
fathom what you’re alluding to ; and I confess my 
inability to even guess what it is that you’re rattling 
about. What is it?” she asked with what Emalene 
regarded as a look of assumed mystification. 

“You know well enough,” said she, seating her- 
self on the arm of Louise’s chair and embracing 
her. “If you realized how much loving kindness 
has done for your personal appearance, you’d cer- 
tainly practice it more. You’re a good girl, even 
if you did maltreat Cousin Jim’s ‘corporeal self- 


FEMININE FINANCE 335 

hood’ and refused to indemnify him for his suffer- 
ings at your hands.” 

“I did indemnify him. Do you forget that I paid 
his doctor’s bill ? But I’m in a maze as to the mean- 
ing of all your prattle. Do enlighten me!” 

“In a maze ! You’re a very good actress, my dear, 
you’re playing the part of the innocent lady beau- 
tifully, but you can’t fool this little, old woman, and 
you needn’t try.” 

“Emalene,” cried Louise, “if you tantalize me 
further, I shall feel impelled to pick you up bodily 
and shake this mystery out of you!” 

“After all your assertion of disgust with Tilly 
and her kind, you beat about the bush rather than 
desert your guns; but as the cook said: ‘It’s the 
loikes o’ me as knows the loikes o’ you’ ; and ” 

“It’s you that are beating about the bush; stop 
it and tell me you ” 

“The very vehemence of your disclaiming, pro- 
claims you the guilty one!” 

“Emalene Carruthers, I’ll put you out of this 
house if you don’t cease your mysterious mouth- 
ings ” 

“Tut, tut; it isn’t worth while to go so far in a 
denial of this sort.” 

Louise had turned away with a shrug, having 
risen from her chair while Emalene was prancing 
about the room. Now she turned suddenly toward 
Emalene, saying: 

“Stop talking nonsense, Emalene! Tell me right 
away, in so many words, plain ones, leaving out all 


336 


FEMININE FINANCE 


figures of speech, compliments, quotations, and 
other extraneous allusions, what do you mean?” 

“Well — that after all, it was you Avho paid for 
Tilly; but you took your own, and a very original, 
method of doing it. You’re a most original per- 
son, as I’ve had occasion to remark before.” 

“I’m still in the dark! And, living up to my 
reputation for stubbornness, I’m going to sit here 
and say nothing, until it pleases you to quit this 
incoherent babbling and tell me what you mean. 
Now remember, if it’s six weeks, I’ll not utter an- 
other word until you explain.” 

“Well, then, I’ll begin right away because I want 
you to talk. That’s what I came for: to hear you 
talk. Did you suppose I came here to hear my- 
self?” she asked, serio-comically. “I can talk at 
home.” 

“Whether it’s what you came for or not, you 
generally do hear yourself a good deal,” Louise 
was betrayed into saying. 

“There, now, I knew you’d have to say something ! 
But as for my talking — when I come here, kind 
lady that you are, you generally give me my dinner 
— must I not do something to show my gratitude? 
I must. So I babble. But since deeds are better 
than words, I now hand you” — from the bag which 
she had kept in her hand while all the parley was 
going on — “first, five hundred and two dollars and 
fifty cents, which is the amount of the money-order 
Tilly sent me; and second, five hundred dollars 
more, which you sent me, because, while you really 


FEMININE FINANCE 


337 


wanted to do Tilly the kindness, you wanted me 
to get the credit for doing it. In other words, I 
received anonymously, this morning, these five per- 
fectly good one-hundred-dollar bills. You are the 
only person in the world save Rosamond and 
myself, that knows about this debt of mine, and 
Rosamond could not have sent it. My facetious 
suggestion, the day our compact was made, is an- 
other reason for believing that you sent me the 
money. Only you could have done it ! But I can’t 
take it, Louise. You’ve already been generous 
enough to return me the note and see me destroy 
it, and as I have here the wherewithal to pay Tilly’s 
indebtedness to you, through me, or to me through 
you — whichever you will — you must take back this 
anonymously sent money. I can see easily enough 
that you thought Tilly was never going to pay, and 
believed that I would never have the grit to keep 
on saving pennies to enable me to repay the amount 
borrowed. You don’t know me yet, Louise. So 
you concluded to give me the money to pay you 
with. In other words, to pay yourself, through 
me.” 

“Nonsense ! Why isn’t it probable that some one 
who doesn’t know of your present financial stress 
sent you the money? You’re going a long way 
round to find the sender, it seems to me !” 

“But doesn’t it strike you as strange that noth- 
ing of the sort ever happened to me before?” Louise 
did not reply to this, and Emalene, after a moment 
asked : 


338 FEMININE FINANCE 

“Where do you suppose Tilly’s first money-order 
is?” 

“I — have — it — Emalene,” answered Louise, hesi- 
tatingly. 

“You have it! When did you receive it?” asked 
Emalene, aghast. 

“Something over three weeks after Tilly mailed 
it.” 

“Have had it ever since without cashing it ! And 
why?” 

“The interest wasn’t right. I was not satisfied 
with the interest she had included. She’d had the 
money over two months: three weeks going out, 
the three weeks it was in transit returning, and 
several besides, as her letter said. This would 
have made the interest five dollars instead of two 
and a half. You might say that for the three weeks 
the money was in transit returning, she hadn’t the 
use of it, but I certainly hadn’t the use of it for 
the time, and I think I’m entitled to an extra two 
dollars and a half.” 

“I’ll gladly pay the interest, Mademoiselle Shy- 
lock,” said Emalene, laying two dollars and a half 
on the table. “There, now, the financial embarrass- 
ments of the Tilly Episode have passed into 
oblivion, where I hope they will remain.” Louise 
silently frowned at the appellation bestowed upon 
her, while Emalene seemed buried in thought. 
Rousing herself, the latter said quickly : 

“I snatch the matter by the tail from the waters 


FEMININE FINANCE 339 

of Lethe long* enough to ask you to let me see the 
money-order.” 

“Why should you care to see it? — you don’t doubt 
my word?” 

“No; but let me see it,” insisted Emalene. And 
it was produced. 

Looking at the date, Emalene exclaimed, in 
amazement : 

“Louise, you must have had this when you made 
that covenant with me!” 

“Yes, I did have it then,” said Louise, quietly. 

“Do you think — aside from the unkindness — that 
it was quite honorable for you to let me go on work- 
ing anxiously to pay a debt that was already paid?” 
As she said this she picked up the money sent by 
Tilly, and replaced it in her bag. 

“I question if any harm was done anyone by my 
keeping the money-order as I did, without cashing 
it. I made two dollars and a half by doing so, 
and you learned to be careful and saving, whereas 
had you known I was repaid, you’d have gone on 
as you always have done, distributing your money 
in dollars and dimes to so-called unfortunates who 
are generally lazy-bones. Besides, you have there 
in your bag five hundred dollars of your own as 
the result of my reticence. Tilly would never have 
sent the second amount if I had cashed the first 
order right away ” 

“Mercy!” gasped Emalene. “You astonish me 
more and more! Do you imagine that I intend to 
keep Tilly’s money? That I do kindnesses with the 


340 


FEMININE FINANCE 


idea of reaping monetary returns therefrom? If 
you could associate such an idea with me, it only 
proves how long and intimately one woman may 
know another, without knowing her really. I as- 
sure you that I shall send back to Tilly every penny 
of this money except the two dollars and a half 
which I paid you as interest.” 

“By the way,” said Louise, suspiciously, “doesn’t 
it seem rather queer that those Australians should 
be willing to advance to Tilly two such sums of 
money in so short a time?” 

Emalene understood her meaning; but, pretend- 
ing not to, said quickly : 

“They’re fond of her, you see, and rich and — 
generous.” 

“I was about to remark,” said Louise, “that the 
money you piled there on the table a while ago, 
being one thousand and five dollars, was a rather 
handsome return for the use of five hundred dol- 
lars for two months — rather high finance. At that 
rate I should want you to make other investments 
for me, and should be a billionaire in a compara- 
tively short time. In addition to your other ac- 
complishments, your wit and wisdom, you turn 
out to be an Amazon of Finance. Wall Street is the 
place for you, my dear — it’s fairly yawning for 
just such as you — the fact that you are of the fem- 
inine gender would not bar you.” Here Emalene, 
who had been smiling somewhat reluctantly at 
Louise’s pleasantry, interrupted to say: 

“It just occurs to me that the lady who thinks 


FEMININE FINANCE 


341 


out and makes a compact suck as you did with me, 
making a virtue from which to acquire much merit, 
of giving me back my note while already in pos- 
session of the funds liquidating it, is not the lady 
to whom I ascribed the sending of the five hundred 
dollars anonymously, and I therefore snatch back 
those five new, crisp bills, and bag them also!” 

“And quite right, since I don’t want them. I’ve 
received my own, with interest, and am satisfied. 
But, to be perfectly correct, I did not have the 
funds — haven’t them yet. I’ve only the order for 
them. If I chose to destroy it, I’d never get the 
money, which would revert to Tilly at the other 
side of the world.” 

“Don’t be childish, Louise,” laughed Emalene, 
wondering what other vagaries would be uncovered 
in connection with the Tilly Episode, and disap- 
pointed at Louise’s want of frankness in the matter. 

“I can see,” said Louise, “why Tilly remitted to 
me. You foolishly did not tell her you had bor- 
rowed the money from me, but that I had advanced 
it. She’s grateful to me and thought the money 
should be returned to me.” 

“I wanted her to be grateful to you. I don’t care 
anything about her gratitude, and I let her suppose 
you advanced the money in order that she mightn’t 
be oppressed with the idea of being in debt to me. 
Knowing that my means are limited, she might 
have felt unhappy about it, and I didn’t know but 
that she might be going out there to trials of her 
strength and patience galore, without thinking of 


342 


FEMININE FINANCE 


me as starving on account of the money I had 
loaned her. And again, I wanted her to think 
better of you than, from what she knew of some 
of your conduct toward her fat relative, she might. 
I hoped that you would change your view of people 
and things somewhat, Louise. See how much bet- 
ter Tilly is than even I thought her! Further, I 
felt that I owed you something, since it really w^as 
because of me that you or any one went to Cousin 
Jim’s, with the unpleasant result of the threatened 
suit.” 

“You certainly are an altruist,” said Louise, 
smiling, while Emalene paused for breath. Con- 
tinuing, the latter said : 

“I’ve always told you that I hoped something 
would happen to shake up your atrophied emotions, 
and awake you to real life. I’m still hoping, and 
shall hope on, even though you disappoint me 
seventy times seven.” This was said without any 
evidence of displeasure. 

“I know what I’ll do w r ith this mysterious five 
hundred dollars,” continued Emalene, “which I now 
know you did not send me. I’ll give it to Rosa- 
mond to spend as she thinks best. I shouldn’t 
wonder if, after all, she sent it to me. She’ll make 
good use of it. I think she missed my munificent 
contribution to the funds of the club. I’ll go to 
her to-night and give it to her, and before I go I 
shall try to learn by telephone if Mr. Gray is to 
be there, and if he is, I shall ask her to come to 
me, because I intend to give you every possible 


FEMININE FINANCE 


343 


chance for happiness with him, even though I am 
morally released from our covenant by your re- 
tention of the money-order. And I want to say 
what you probably know, if you’ve had your bank- 
book balanced lately, that I still have your cheque 
for ninety-seven dollars and fifty cents — here it 
is,” taking it from her bag. 

“Don’t bother, Emalene,” smiling with a tinge of 
embarrassment. “I was foolish ever to have pro- 
posed such a thing. I laugh at myself for the folly 
of it — of entertaining for one moment the idea of 
accepting a man who would offer himself because 
another woman, whom he preferred — I know he 
does prefer you — happened to be out or declined 
to see him when he called, or absented herself in 
Europe, with Europe but three thousand miles 
away, and steamers sailing almost daily from this 
port, and cable rates gs reasonable as they are. 
We’ll declare the ban lifted, the compact dissolved! 
Since you’ve been keeping out of the way, I haven’t 
seen very much of him. But I’ve seen enough to 
make me know that I’ve no chance to win him, 
whether you are here or elsewhere. But, to use 
your own words, you’re ‘all right.’ If you get 
Mr. Gray, no one will rejoice more heartily than 
I in your good fortune, and it will be good for- 
tune, for he’s a fine man. He will, I am sure, be 
generous enough to let you be as generous as you 
like, unless you want to give away his houses and 
shirts, lands and trousers, handkerchiefs and bonds, 
as you probably will— — ” 


344 . 


FEMININE FINANCE 


“Don’t assume that I’m a hopeless ninny, because 
I am not. What good thing have I been denied by 
being good to Tilly? I’ve worked hard, but in one 
way and another my time’s always filled, and it is 
just as well that it should be filled with work. 
I’ve been just as well fed, just as well sheltered, 
as I should have been had I never seen Tilly. I 
did suffer some anxiety as to the ultimate payment 
of your note. But the result proves my fears to 
have been groundless. And if I had lived up to 
what I really believe, I shouldn’t have doubted 
Tilly’s returning that money; or, assuming that 
she had not returned it, that it was anything but 
right, and bound to ultimate in good to my soul 
for me to go on working to pay it myself. I’m so 
happy over the outcome of it all, that I’m al- 
most” — she hesitated. 

“Almost what?” asked Louise. 

“I was about to say that I feel so optimistic that 
I believe good will come to and be manifested by 
even” — she grew thoughtful, and Louise, recalling 
certain conduct of her own of which she was not 
especially proud, blushed, thinking her own was 
the name that trembled on the lips of that now 
happy little person. But, emerging from her brown 
study, the latter said, smiling mysteriously: 

“Cousin Jim. Possibly it’s too much to say that 
I believe it will, but I can, at least, say 7 hope/’ 
She took her departure at once, and Louise waved 
to her from the window. 


CHAPTER XXIX 


Emalene went directly home to put away for 
safe-keeping the money, which in the form of a 
money-order, she intended to return to Tilly thenext 
day. She secreted it and went to the telephone in 
the hall on the ground-floor, where she called up 
Rosamond Gray, telling her that she had received 
a windfall of five hundred dollars for the club, and 
that she would be with her toward nightfall to de- 
liver it to her. It was arranged that she should 
sup with the Grays, and as she was turning away 
from the telephone to ascend the stairs to her room, 
Geoffrey entered the front door, and she met him 
face to face. She found it impossible to learn with- 
out directly questioning Rosamond, whether he was 
to be at her home for supper, and concluded to 
trust to chance or subterfuge to avoid him, if nec- 
essary. His appearance solved the difficulty, and 
she regarded it as significant that he should have 
appeared so soon after the virtual dissolution of the 
covenant. 

He announced that he had come to carry her off 
for a walk, and she hailed the opportunity with 
pleasure. 

They fell into step and joined the crowds on Fifth 
Avenue in the clear, cold air of the late afternoon. 

345 


346 


FEMININE FINANCE 


Those who observed the distinguished-looking man 
and the pretty and spirited little woman with the 
springy step beside him, would never have imagined 
from the manner of either that, as they passed Saint 
Thomas’s he asked*: 

“Shall you insist, as most women do, upon much 
fuss and feathers at your wedding?” 

“That possible event hasn’t occupied my thoughts 
to an extent which has permitted the arranging of 
details. Besides, if ever I do make some man mis- 
erable in that way, fuss and feathers, being expen- 
sive commodities, must be conspicuously absent 
from the ceremony.” 

“All the better! Do you think you could enter- 
tain the notion of going with me to church some 
day soon, with, possibly, Rosamond, her mother, 
and the girls, and my two sisters, Henry Harkness 
as best man, and a few of your best friends, and 
permit the rector to make us man and wife? Or 
have it as you please — I shan’t quibble about details 
— if only you’ll let me be the man that comes out of 
church with the bride.” 

“If ever I come out of church or anywhere else 
a bride, you will be the man that will lead me out, 
of that you may be sure ” 

“And to think I can’t even take your hand here, 
with all these people about,” said he, boyishly. 

They were walking southward, and as they passed 
Tiffany’s he looked toward the closed doors, say- 
ing: 

“If it were not Sunday, I’d go in and get two 


FEMININE FINANCE 


347 


rings. I’d find some opportunity to put on the 
one right there, and the engagement could last 
until we could drive to Saint Bartholomew’s; and 
there I’d put the plain one on that pretty hand of 
yours, and we would drive home and surprise the 
family.” 

“You’d be too hasty! I shouldn’t care to sur- 
prise the family quite that much. And while there 
will be little fuss and feathers at my wedding, I 
shouldn’t like it to be quite so informal. I’m glad 
it’s Sunday.” 

*•**#•►# 

Louise, meanwhile, sat over her fire, buried in 
deep thought. Finally she arose, and selecting from 
a package of canceled cheques, one of a very recent 
date, tore it into bits, and let them fall slowly on 
the glowing coals. 


THE END 































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